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The Note of Discord. 

BY 


ilarian Courtis. 



BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO. 
835 BROADWAY NEW YORK 






Iwv; Opoltf' ftecelvetf 

OCT 14 1901- 

• Conyrifftit Enby 

i(p^ct./^, fqof 
CLASS a- xxc.,«o. 
I /^^T/S^SS 
L s- 


Copyright, 1907, 

BY 

BROADWAY PUBLISHING COMPANY 


AH Rights Reserved, 


TflE NOTE OF DISCORD. 


CHAPTER I. 

‘'Mother, where is Betty? Is she not down- 
stairs yet?’' asked Bruce Carleton, as he seated 
himself at the breakfast table, this December 
morning. 

'‘No, son,” Mrs. Carleton replied. "She came 
in late from the dance last night. I ordered Eliza 
not to awaken her yet. Old Ellen will take care 
of Betty’s breakfast; 'the little canary bird/ she 
calls the child.” 

Bruce smiled as he remarked : "Betty is like 
one of the lilies of the field. She toils not, neither 
does she spin ; yet, Solomon, in all his glory, was 
not arrayed like her.” 

"Yes,” laughed his mother, "I verily believe, if 
all other resources failed, that the ravens would 
feed and the fairies clothe her, for never could 
Betty Carleton take care of herself.” 

"Ah!” said Colonel Carleton, as he rose from 
the breakfast table. "Don’t you fret about Betty, 
her blood has the right color;” then bidding 
good-bye to his wife and son, hurried away to 
keep an early appointment at the suburb of Wil- 
ton, the site of his large manufacturing interests. 


2 


The Note of Discord 


Left together, mother and son, over their de- 
licious breakfast, returijed to the subject of Betty 
— her beauty and her beaux. 

''Mother, I am sorry Betty favors the atten- 
tions of that fellow Granville,” Bruce remarked, 
with a shade of disapproval on his face. 

"Why, son,” exclaimed Mrs. Carleton, a new 
interest lighting her placid features, "Ross Gran- 
ville impresses me as a young man of fine person- 
ality. He is ambitious, successful, and popular. 
I will admit that I have thought him a suitable 
match for Betty. What do you know against 
him, Bruce?” Mrs. Carleton inquired, with a 
questioning glance at her son. 

"I wish I knew something which would cause 
Betty to regard him with dislike. True, Gran- 
ville has a magnetic charm of manner, but he is 
a man who will make miserable the woman who 
is unfortunate enough to become his wife. He 
is vain, selfish and cares only for those who pay 
tribute to his merits,” Bruce answered his 
mother. 

With a wise nod of the head, she returned: 
"I fear that you are a bit unjust, Bruce, because 
you prefer Eugene Freeman among Betty’s 
suitors. I am sure Mr. Granville seems devoted 
to Betty.” 

"He loves her next to himself,” was the sar- 
castic rejoinder. "Betty is bright and beautiful, 
and she is Colonel Carleton’s daughter, and that 
means much in Camden,” he added, with a touch 
of pride. 

At this moment the conversation was interrupt- 
ed by the entrance of the black maid, Eliza, with 


The Note of Discord 3 

a plate of Ellen’s crisp waffles. Mrs. Carleton 
was one of those wise women, who knows that 
out of the kitchen chiefly comes the strength, 
health and happiness of the home. She bravely 
closed her eyes to many faults, but demanded 
of the cook, who remained in her service, that 
the family meals should be perfectly prepared, 
and this capable woman received what she de- 
manded. 

‘^No, mother,” Bruce continued, as the maid 
left the room, ‘T am not unfair to Granville; 
but I am proud of my friend, Freeman, ‘this no- 
ble son of New England’s soil,’ as Colonel Wat- 
kins spoke of him at the club a few nights since. 
It may be that you and father, with Gettysburg 
and Shiloh still in your minds, are a little preju- 
diced against Eugene, but the war was over 
more than forty years ago. I know that Eugene 
loves Betty with a strength and earnestness 
which Granville could not even comprehend,” 
said Bruce, as the loyalty of his nature flashed 
from his fine blue eyes. 

Here Eliza, with the morning paper, delayed 
in its arrival, interrupted the young man’s con- 
versation. 

Bruce, looking over the local columns of the 
Times, read with deep concern to his mother 
the bold headlines, “Negro Brute Enters Elm 
Street Orphanage,” then the story of an attempt- 
ed crime the night previous. 

The paper stated that at eleven o’clock the 
night before a negro man had entered a dormi- 
tory of the orphans’ home, where fifteen young 
girls slept. That in attempting to choke one of 


4 The Note of Discord 

the girls, Minnie Flynn, into insensibility, the 
sound of the struggle had aroused Mrs. Rand, 
the matron of the home, whereupon the negro 
man had made his escape. 

‘Toor little Minnie!” Mrs. Carleton said in 
tones of distress. “She^s the dear girl who 
helped Olivia in October, when Bob and Bess 
were sick with the measles.” 

‘T remember her, a pretty, modest girl,” Bruce 
replied to his mother. 

“And so useful to Mrs. Rand in the home,” 
added Mrs. Carleton. 

“The most shameful crime ever attempted in 
this town,” Bruce exclaimed in anger and ex- 
citement. “I hope there’ll be no more like it — 
or there’ll be rocky times in Camden.” At this 
moment, their breakfast finished, hearing the 
ring of the telephone, mother and son left the 
room. “Keep the outer doors locked to-day, 
mother,” the young man said on his departure. 
“Such a crime as the one last night is usually 
followed by a similar one; and remember that 
women must be more careful in Camden than in 
most southern towns.” 

At the telephone, Mrs. Carleton heard the 
voice of her married daughter, Olivia Bryan, 
from her suburban home, deploring in dismay 
the attempted assault at the orphans’ home the 
night before. Mrs. Bryan requested her mother 
to go with her to the Orphanage to express their 
regret and sympathy; then, soon followed her 
message to her father’s home. 

Ruth Carleton regarded her three children 
with a devotion almost abnormal; but if she 


The Note of Discord 5 

would have allowed herself a favorite, it would 
have been Olivia, with her brave spirit and her 
active mind, always scheming for the good of 
others. 

This bright young woman and the stately 
mother, with the grace of the old south manner 
still about her, went away to visit the home of 
the orphans, so brutally attacked the night before. 
They loved well the blessed text of the Holy 
Book, by which their lives were guided — the 
text which commanded them to ‘‘comfort the 
widow and fatherless in their affliction.” 


6 


The Note of Discord 


CHAPTER IL 

The Elm Street Orphanage in Camden, Ten- 
nessee, was a large, brick building situated on 
one of the prominent yet quiet streets of the 
town, adjoining the home of the mayor and 
second door from the residence of the editor of 
Camden’s afternoon paper. It had been one of 
the first buildings erected in Camden, for char- 
itable purposes. Presenting a modern appear- 
ance on the exterior, the interior showed an old- 
fashioned arrangement. Narrow, gloomy halls — 
the third little more than a dark passageway — 
the winding staircase in the rear suggested archi- 
tecture of a by-gone day. 

Twenty years before Mrs. Rand, the matron 
of the Orphanage, had come from her home in a 
northern state to take charge of this institution. 
Possessing fine executive ability, a high-bred 
manner and every Christian grace, this excellent 
woman had endeared herself to the people of 
Camden. 

Although old and worn, the interior of the 
house was always spotless; kindness and firm- 
ness shared equally in its control; and few chil- 
dren in Camden had such fine advantages of 
Christian training as the little ones of the Or- 
phanage. 

This December morning, when Mrs. Rand met 


The Note of Discord 7’ 

Mrs. Carleton and Olivia Bryan, she was pale 
and tired from the excitement of the night be- 
fore, yet composed and gracious as usual. 
Greeting them cordially, she expressed appre- 
ciation of the sympathy of these two friends, to 
whom, as earnest workers in the society whose 
efforts sustained the Orphanage, she proceeded 
to give the details of the dreadful experience of 
the night before. 

‘'You know,” she said as she began her story, 
‘T sleep on the lower floor next to the nursery, 
while Mrs. Rice, the assistant matron, rooms 
upstairs across the hall from the girls’ dormi- 
tory. This dormitory was originally two rooms, 
but the partition has been removed. Minnie 
Flynn’s bed is in one corner and Annie Tucker’s 
in the other corner of the recess made by re- 
moving the partition, on the west side of the 
room. 

‘T retired at ten o’clock last night,” the matron 
went on, “but I sleep lightly, and about eleven 
o’clock I was awakened by a strange sound, as 
of scuffling in the room immediately above me, 
which, you know, Olivia, is the girls’ dormitory. 

“When awakened, for an instant I thought 
some of the children had fallen out of bed; then, 
as the noise continued, I ran into the hall, calling 
to Mrs. Rice: ‘What’s the matter in the dormi- 
tory ?’ 

“As she replied : T think it must be one of the 
girls frightened in her sleep,’ I ran up the stair- 
way and heard Minnie Flynn gasping: Oh, 
mama, he choked me. He tried to kill me. 
He’s gone down the back stairs.’ 


8 The Note of Discord 

^‘Rushing to the rear, I found the hall doors 
ajar and saw one of the kitchen windows were 
open, but her assailant had gone. I instantly 
telephoned police headquarters and the county 
jail, both of which, you know, are only six 
squares away. 

‘‘As soon as I had notified the officers and 
closed the kitchen window, I took Minnie, al- 
most fainting, in my arms. To my consterna- 
tion I saw deep, purple prints left from the 
pressure of strong fingers upon her throat. Sob- 
bing bitterly, she explained that as she waked 
she had seen a negro with his fingers clasped 
around her neck. T could not scream,’ she said, 
‘but I prayed God to help me, mama, as you have 
taught us to do; then I fought him with all my 
might.’ In the fierce struggle one of the hasps 
of the iron bed was broken,” the matron ob- 
served, then proceeded with her story. “Though 
almost overcome, Minnie, controlling herself, 
said: ‘Mama, I believe he was trying to carry 
me downstairs, but, in the scuffle, I fell on the 
floor; then you called Mrs. Rice, and the negro 
ran away. The man had pulled his hat low 
over his face ; he had on a brown coat and looked 
like the man who used to come here so much to 
see Rosa, before you told her that he should stop 
coming.’ 

“Little Mary Strong, who sleeps across the 
room from Minnie, is very bright, though only 
nine years old. She says she was awake when 
she saw a negro man tip-toe into the room and 
turn the gas higher, which was burning dimly 
near the door. Mary says she was afraid to 


The Note of Discord 


9 


scream, for fear he would kill her; but she saw 
his face when he turned on the gas, and she 
says it was the negro who had been coming to 
see Rosa in the afternoons, notwithstanding my 



''Sheriff Shipley was the first officer to respond 
to my call for help. He requested, at once, to 
be shown the window through which the negro 
entered the house, as well as the way by which 
the dormitory is reached. The sheriff, observ- 
ing the roundabout passage that leads from the 
kitchen to the dormitory upstairs, promptly gave 
his opinion that the criminal was evidently famil- 
iar with the plan of the house, or else had 
been directed by some one who could explain 
the situation of the rooms. Then I told him of 
the conduct of our cook, Rosa, and the repeated 
visits of a negro man, Ned Jones, whom Minnie 
had described as her assailant. Our county is 
fortunate in having a man for sheriff who is 
so courteous and thoughtful as Captain Ship- 
ley. He was very anxious about the dreadful 
crime that had been attempted, and endeavored, 
with me, to calm the much excited girl, telling 
her that she’d not be molested again, as he’d 
make every effort to capture the guilty negro at 
once. 

"While the sheriff was talking to Minnie, his 
deputies arrived with the blood hounds. The 
dogs ran only a block around the corner to Dun- 
can street; and though several trials were made, 
they refused to go any further. Sheriff Shipley 
expressed his opinion that the criminal had here 
boarded an electric car, or had been met at this 


lO 


The Note of Discord 


point by a cab waiting to drive him to a place 
of safety. While Captain Shipley and his depu- 
ties were discussing the case, the city detectives, 
Harvey and Brown arrived; a number of offi- 
cers, nine altogether, had responded to our call 
for help. The detectives agreed with Sheriif 
Shipley in his belief that the guilty party was 
the friend of Rosa, the cook, and also that the 
crime had been committed with her assistance. 
They worked on this theory, and after search- 
ing all night for the criminal, Ned Jones was 
arrested about seven o’clock this morning. 

‘‘He is the man who has been coming here and 
is an associate of our colored cook whom the 
officers think planned the crime.” 

The matron paused a moment to hear sympa- 
thetic words from her listeners, then went on: 
“It was a sad sight to see the frightened faces 
of those children last night; but I laughed in 
spite of the excitement when, on going to my 
room for a moment, I found sixteen little ones 
climbing in and over my bed, clamoring with 
each other as to who would sleep in ‘Mama 
Rand’s bed’ for the rest of the night.” Here 
the tears stood in the eyes of the tender-hearted 
woman at the thought of this demonstration of 
love by these little helpless children in her care. 

“But, Mrs. Rand, how could Rosa do it — the 
woman who has worked for you for three years 
and to whom you have shown so many favors — 
how could she be an accomplice to such a fear- 
ful crime?” Mrs. Carleton asked in dismay. 

“You will remember that I never shared your 
confidence in Rosa, but you believed that she was 


The Note of Discord 


II 


devoted to you/’ Olivia remarked to the matron, 
with a gentle hint of ‘T told you so” in her 
voice. 

'T did think so until about a week ago, when, 
upon my remonstrating with her about her com- 
ing so late in the morning, she became offended. 
The real cause of her anger, however, was that 
I had forbidden the visits of Ned Jones to the 
house. She had become very much incensed at 
this, and, giving up a room in our basement, had 
rented a house in an alley several squares off. 
Yesterday she was in an angry mood all morn- 
ing, having come in after I had, with Minnie’s 
aid, prepared breakfast.- With an impudent air 
she remarked that she didn’t intend to be bossed 
any longer by low-down white trash; where- 
upon I told her, as soon as she finished the work 
on which she was then engaged, that I must dis- 
miss her from our service. She heard Minnie, 
who was present and who is, as you know, a 
well-grown girl of fifteen, say: ^Mama, I can 
do the work until you can get another cook.’ At 
this remark Rosa became furious, saying T’ll 
fix you for that, you dirty, poor white trash!’ 
I supposed this to be one of the threats which 
negroes make in violent anger and thought no 
more of it. 

'‘Yes, Rosa was placed in jail at three o’clock 
this morning,” the matron replied to an inquiry 
from Mrs. Carleton. "Detective Harvey came 
early to tell me the story of her arrest. She lives 
about three squares back of your home, Mrs. 
Carleton.” 

"Isn’t it deplorable,” Olivia exclaimed, "that 


12 


The Note of Discord 


in Camden the town is so built that the dens of 
negro thugs are right at our back doors ? There 
is scarcely a residence section in Camden where 
the negro settlements are further than two 
squares from the best homes.” 

^‘This condition is the result of the boom of 
1886; but go on, Mrs. Rand, with the story,” 
Mrs. Carleton urged. 

Then the matron continued to her breathless 
listeners: ‘‘Acting upon Sheriff Shipley's the- 
ory that the cook was an accomplice in the crime, 
the detectives went first to her home, where Rosa 
denied all acquaintance with Jones and further 
made inconsistent statements which convinced 
them that something was wrong, and in spite of 
her untruthful answers, Jones’ picture and cloth- 
ing were found in her house. She was lodged in 
jail; then the detective gave a patrolman the 
negro man’s picture, with instructions to watch 
for him near one of the big foundries where he 
was supposed to work. The patrolman easily 
recognized Jones and was confirmed in his be- 
lief of the negro’s guilt by a vile remark made 
about white women when the patrolman arrested 
him. Oh!” cried the pure-hearted woman, “that 
one of my little girls should have been attacked 
by such a brute!” 

“It is evident,” observed Mrs. Carleton, “that, 
though Rosa must have intended murder, the 
man wished to add to it a more dreadful crime.” 

“Come to the kitchen, my friends,” the mat- 
ron requested of her visitors. Walking through 
three narrow halls, past the winding stairway 
by which the negro had reached the upper floor 


The Note of Discord 


13 


the night before, the three women came to the 
kitchen where the wretch had forced his way. 
Here the sink was arranged in one corner; the 
kitchen table was placed near it. Above the sink 
a small rack held two gleaming knives, newly 
sharpened. The window through which the ne- 
gro had effected his entrance was situated im- 
mediately between the sink and range, there be- 
ing a distance of about five feet between the 
position of these two articles of household fur- 
nishings. Mrs. Rand took up the interrupted 
story: ‘‘When I reached the kitchen last night 
I saw the open window — I saw this knife lying 
on the kitchen table'’ — here the matron pointed 
to the larger knife on the rack — “and I also no- 
ticed a piece of blunt, heavy wood lying on the 
range." Here Olivia gave a startled cry; then 
Mrs. Rand remarked: “You know, dear, that 
we are nothing if not methodical in our habits. 
I know the knife was in the rack when I left the 
kitchen last night. Two of the girls were in the 
room later, but they say there was no occasion 
to use the knife. It is possible that some young- 
er child might have used it, but this is not prob- 
able, as the presence of the little ones in the 
kitchen is positively against our rules." 

“I am certain," Olivia exclaimed in horrified 
tones, “that Rosa sent Ned Jones here to murder 
Minnie. Of course, on account of her own rela- 
tions with him she would resent the other sinister 
crime which he contemplated. My theory is that 
the negro intended bringing Minnie to the kitch- 
en, striking her senseless with the block of wood, 
which he'd placed on the range as he came in ; 


14 


The Note of Discord 


then his fiendish crime accomplished, he intend- 
ed to cut her throat with the knife which lay on 
the table and leave by the open window just at 
hand,’’ Olivia, examining the broken window 
fastening that Mrs. Rand gave her, observed, 
“The detectives undoubtedly have the right man. 
This negro knew that cast-iron is not hard to 
break, and you say, Mrs. Rand, that Jones works 
at Gilman's foundry?" 

“Hear Sherlock Holmes," laughed the matron, 
half merrily, to Mrs. Carleton. “Really, Olivia, 
your idea is similar to one point in the officers' 
theory." 

“It seems immaterial to me," Mrs. Carleton 
remarked, “as to who placed the knife on the 
table. If Rosa intended murder, she, of course, 
told the negro of the position of the knife. It 
was moonlight, and with the blinds open the 
man could easily see the knife, either alx)ve the 
sink or on the table just by it." 

“Mrs. Rand, is there other kindling in the 
basement, similar to the piece found on the range 
last night?" Mrs. Carleton inquired. 

“No, the officers did not find any, though they 
searched thoroughly. But Detective Harvey 
carried this stick of kindling to Rosa’s home 
and found in her woodshed a quantity of kin- 
dling exactly matching this piece. 

“A spade from our coal house and a cast-off 
curtain pole in the basement were used to pry 
open the window ; they were found outside, 
where the man left them in his haste to escape. 
It is the duty of one of our best boys to lock 
the doors of the coal house and basement each 


The Note of Discord 15 

night, and to hang the keys on a peg in the kitch- 
en, ready for the housemaid’s use next morning. 
Last evening Philip came in, as usual, to report 
that his duties for the day were done. To my 
inquiries he answered promptly that the coal 
house and basement had been fastened. Later, 
Sarah, the housemaid went away, one of the 
girls locking the kitchen door after her delayed 
departure. Yet, when the officers came last 
night, the basement and coal house doors were 
open and the keys were on their accustomed peg 
in the kitchen. When Sarah came to her work 
this morning she inquired of some of the girls 
if anything had happened here the night before; 
and later, two of the children told me that she 
had come into the dormitory the morning be- 
fore, while the little girls were busy, and asked 
where Annie Tucker and Minnie Flynn slept. 
The children, unsuspicious of any wrong, 
showed her the beds in the west alcove. You 
know, Olivia,” the matron explained, ‘'the house- 
maid is employed to clean the lower floor only 
and has no business upstairs. Detective Har- 
vey,” the matron continued, “is in the office 
now, questioning these girls and Mrs. Rice. I 
suspect he intends to arrest Sarah this morning.” 

The two visitors, in taking their leave of the 
matron, passed into the front vestibule as De- 
tective Flarvey walked out of the office. Mrs. 
Carleton and her daughter greeted the young 
detective with cordiality, expressing their pleas- 
ure that he had been detailed upon this case. 
They lingered a moment in discussing the main 
points of the crime of the past night. Harvey 


i6 The Note of Discord 

announced his intention of arresting the house- 
maid at once, then added : ‘T cannot understand 
how this young girl had the strength to fight 
that negro man as she did last night/’ 

Mrs. Carleton looked with a serious air into 
the young man’s face as she replied: ^Tt was 
by the help of God Himself. When evening 
comes, each soul in this house consigns itself 
to the care of God until morning — and last night 
He took care of His own.” 

And the man of the world, who dealt with 
sin and crime, bowed low to the gentle woman 
as he went out of the door of the orphans’ home, 
with an earnest look in his eyes. 


The Note of Discord 


17 


CHAPTER III. 

When Olivia and her mother left the Orphan- 
age it was nearing the ''dinner hour/’ as Mrs. 
Carleton, still using the old-fashioned southern 
name, called the noonday meal. Indeed, so im- 
bued was this woman with all ideas and customs 
of her beloved country that it was difficult for 
her to recognize any innovation. As the daugh- 
ter of a slave-holder in Virginia, she had been 
taught early in life to consider the material com- 
forts of those who served her. She claimed that 
cooks came earlier and left later than those en- 
gaged in any other line of household work, and 
in her home, at least, performed harder and 
more important duties than any other of the 
servants. Therefore they were entitled to their 
rest in the afternoon hours. This kind mistress 
arranged her bills of fare so carefully that, 
though her family enjoyed each day a delicious 
southern supper, at the same time her cook was 
spared from doing the heaviest work in the 
evening. 

And each afternoon, when old Ellen went to 
her humble home in a nearby alley, many good 
bits from the Carleton table — "all de cold vit- 
tles” — went with her, for the little grandchildren 
for whom she cared. Mrs. Carleton, watchful 
in other things, would discreetly look another 


i8 The Note of Discord 

way if she chanced to see the old cook on her 
departure. With a laugh, Bruce would remark 
to his mother that Ellen was captain of the 
basket and bucket brigade which daily files out 
of the homes of Camden. To which Mrs. Carle- 
ton would reply: '‘You know, son, that the 
laws of heredity are strong. In days gone by 
the fathers and the mothers of these servants 
went to the 'big house’ on the old plantation for 
all good things, and well do the housekeepers 
of the south know that they go to the 'big house’ 
yet.” So, while other home-makers searched in 
despair for competent cooks, Mrs. Carleton was 
spared this annoyance, since old Ellen for six- 
teen years had carefully guarded her position 
in the Carleton household from the designs of 
other ambitious servants. 

And a much-desired nome it was, both to 
serve and live in. 

Robert Bruce Carleton had been reared on a 
big plantation in south Georgia, a son of one of 
the best families in that section. When war 
was proclaimed between the states, this fearless 
young man left home in eager haste to answer 
his country’s call. His brave spirit and marked 
capacity for leadership soon placed him at the 
head of his regiment, whicn he led through some 
of the bloodiest battles of the long conflict. 

Unlike most soldiers of the vanquished army, 
when Robert Carleton returned to his old home 
under new conditions he found a legacy await- 
ing him. A maternal uncle, an old man, unmar- 
ried, had gloated all his life over his hidden re- 
sources; but at last finding himself near death, 


The Note of Discord 19 

had left his wealth to the son of his dead sister — 
the only creature he ever loved. 

At thirty-five, Colonel Carleton married Ruth 
Manning, of Virginia, many years his junior. 
Twenty years before, when the whole south was 
agitated by a financial upheaval, the turning 
point of its present prosperity, Colonel Carleton 
with his wife and children came to Camden, 
where he engaged in a manufacturing business. 
His family had always spent money freely and 
enjoyed every comfort of life. This shrewd man 
left every detail of the home to his wife’s care 
and judgment, concerning himself little about 
household affairs, except to pay the monthly 
bills and to know that few men in town had the 
right to feel the just pride in their families which 
it was his privilege to enjoy. 

His elder daughter, Olivia, at twenty-two 
married Hugh Bryan, a young lawyer, socially 
and politically one of the most prominent men 
in Camden. The old rebel Colonel swallowed a 
bitter pill when she chose out of a score of 
lovers this southern republican, the son of a 
Union soldier of East Tennessee. Yet, he took 
his dose like a man, and he and his son-in-law 
became congenial companions, always avoiding 
the discussion of their political differences. 

But the ties of kinship are stronger than the 
claims of politics. When Hugh Bryan received 
the republican nomination for circuit judge. 
Colonel Carleton fought this political battle for 
his daughter’s husband, with the same ardor 
with which he had fought at Manassas and 
Chickamauga. Of course, Bryan won in this 


20 


The Note of Discord 


election — ^but money burns holes in the pocket- 
books of Camden politicians, and Olivia needed 
all the financial ability of her father's family and 
the industrious spirit inherited from her mother 
to make the Judge's salary go the whole way 
round in her household. 

Judge Bryan's home was situated in Ridgway, 
the best suburb of Camden, where little Bob and 
Bess, his two children could enjoy the country 
sunshine, yet have good school and church ad- 
vantages. 

Colonel Carleton had associated his only son 
with him in business. Strong of limb and clean 
of heart, with a genial, whole-souled presence, 
Bruce Carleton stood a splendid type of south- 
ern manhood. His fancy yet untouched, he had 
endeared himself, by every grace of manly char- 
acter, to the young women of his circle. If a 
shy or stupid girl were present, it was Bruce 
who saw that she was not neglected; and many 
an unattractive visitor — otherwise a wallflower 
— had gone from the dance with a glow of pride 
at the attentions of Colonel Carleton's son. 

And never since the days of Bayard had pure 
womanhood known a braver defender ! 

But the younger daughter was the pivot on 
which the Carleton home revolved, as the family 
laid homage at the feet of Betty. Three years 
as the favorite of Camden's best society had not 
dimmed the purity and sweetness of her nature, 
and her beauty was as delicate and dainty as one 
of the white lilies which grew on her father's 
lawn. 


The Note of Discord 


21 


CHAPTER IV. 

The mid-winter holidays were approaching. 
Olivia, busy with her Christmas preparations, 
wished to secure some choice evergreens which 
she knew grew about eight miles from Camden. 
Hugh Bryan's chief pleasure was the long after- 
noon drives, in which he and his wife had 
traversed every section of the country; and 
Olivia knew the country people as well as she 
knew those of her own circle. In order to pro- 
cure the evergreens desired by his wife, Judge 
Bryan proposed a drive to Valley Church, the 
locality where they were growing. 

Olivia, still excited over the episode of the 
Orphanage, asked her husband to take with him 
for the long drive the pistol which she kept in 
the cabinet in her bedroom. At first he refused, 
with a touch of vexation that she should doubt 
his power to protect her, and laughingly pro- 
tested: ‘‘Pistol carrying is not a dignified act 
for a judge of any court." But his wife, de- 
clining to go without the weapon, he yielded to 
her wishes, and having a habit of driving from 
the left side of the trap, the revolver in his right 
hip pocket was next to Olivia. As they swept 
along the well-built roads of Harrison county, 
the resinous odor of the pines filled the air with 
a bracing sweetness, and the Kentucky trotter 
carried them swiftly to their destination. 


22 


The Note of Discord 


They stopped for a moment at Valley Church, 
where a small party of the women of the neigh- 
borhood, aided by a few men, were preparing 
for a Christmas entertainment that night. It 
was the twenty-third of December, and the farm- 
ers’ families, being accustomed to enjoy Christ- 
mas Eve at their own homes had selected this 
time for their mutual festivities. The popular 
couple stopped for a short while at the little 
church ; Bryan to jolly with the men, while 
Olivia heard with eager interest the plans for 
the evening’s pleasure. Being urged by some 
of the women whom she knew, she gave them, 
from her own fertile mind, a few useful hints 
for the evening’s entertainment. Then picking 
up a little darkey from a cabin not far away, 
they drove to the spot where the Christmas 
greens grew. The brown-faced ''Buddy,” as the 
Judge called him, scaled the trees with the ease 
and grace of a squirrel, and soon the trap was 
filled with the evergreens. But the crisp De- 
cember atmosphere had changed and one of 
those sudden rain storms, usual in this climate, 
was rapidly approaching. Judge Bryan drove 
to the home of Ben Railey, a personal friend, one 
of the neighboring farmers, where they were 
warmly greeted by Railey and his son Frank, the 
latter a constable of the district. 

The young man assisted Mrs. Bryan from 
the trap, then drove it, in the drenching rain, 
to the barn, while the old man hurried his city 
guests into the house out of the heavy storm. 
The women of the home were at Valley Church, 
aiding in the holiday preparations there. Railey 


The Note of Discord 23 

and his son talked of the Christmas tree and 
entertained the Judge and his wife with bright 
anecdotes of the coming neighborhood festivi- 
ties. 

Ah, indeed! in the midst of life are we in 
death, for little did the gay young man and the 
fond old father know what that Christmas tree 
would bring to them before morning. 

It was late before the rain storm had ceased. 
The Kentucky trotter had lost a shoe, and it was 
dusk when Hugh Bryan and his wife, on their 
return, reached a stretch of lonely woodland 
through which ran a portion of the homeward 
road. Driving slowly, on account of the missing 
horseshoe, they saw, approaching on the road in 
front of them, four negro men whom they sup- 
posed were workmen from a stone quarry two 
miles away. 

As the men drew near one of them called 
out: ‘‘Oh, Jedge, I wants to see you a minute.’’ 
As Bryan halted his trotter tv/o of the negroes 
stepped towards the horse’s head, one of them 
with a hand carelessly laid on the bridle, while 
the others approached the Judge’s side. Bryan, 
noting their suspicious movements, said to his 
wife: “Olivia, be careful, my pistol is in the 
pocket next to you,” and, as if rearranging the 
Vveapon, half drew it from its resting place. 

The negro who had spoken, exclaimed hur- 
riedly: “Never mind, Jedge, I won’t stop you 
so late. I’ll see you at your office in the morn- 
in’.” Then the four negroes walked rapidly 
away. 

Startled by the incident, Olivia retained her 


24 


The Note of Discord 


composure, until reaching home, when she gave 
way to an attack of nervous suffering, of which 
she was an occasional victim. 

Some years before, while spending the sum- 
mer in the country, she had been terribly fright- 
ened by a negro man. Though of a strong con- 
•stitution, Olivia had never entirely recovered 
from the effect of the fright and its consequences 
and her nervous system keenly responded to a 
similar strain upon it. 

After a restless night, she arose early, and, 
opening the pages of the Camden Herald, her 
eyes fell upon the account of the murder of 
Frank Railey at Valley Church the night before. 

The newspaper stated that during the Christ- 
mas entertainment at the church, the company 
was interrupted by the ribald jests and laughter 
of some negroes in a near-by cabin, evidently 
bent on disturbing and breaking up the enter- 
tainment. So boisterous was their conduct that 
the names of the children could not be heard 
when the director of the little affair called them 
out, as he took the presents of each child from 
the Christmas tree. 

Frank Railey, constable of the district, per- 
forming his duty as an officer, went to the cabin 
to remonstrate with the negroes and order them 
to be quiet. Before the constable had time to 
realize his own peril, he was shot down in cold 
blood by a negro man, Bill Weston. 

Olivia, burning with indignation over young 
Railey death, read the newspaper account to 
her husband. This warm-hearted woman felt a 
deep interest in the public welfare of the police 


The Note of Discord 




officers, deputy sheriflfs and constables of Cam- 
den and Harrison county. This town and coun- 
ty were situated near the borders of three states. 
To this point thousands of evil-doers, fleeing 
from the wrath of their own states, flooded the 
dives and slums of Camden and its outlying 
districts. Many of these negroes, depraved by 
nature, welcomed an opportunity to show their 
hatred of the superior race. 

Judge Bryan expressed deep concern for the 
death of young Railey and the sorrow of 
his aged father. Then he knitted his brows in 
vexation as he said to his. wife: ‘^Olivia, dear, 
I have had aspirations for the republican nom- 
ination for Congress next year. It has already 
been offered me, if I should care to accept it. 
You are a woman to inspire a man with courage 
and ambition, and I am sure you would enjoy 
two winters in Washington. But this murder 
makes the second horrible and unprovoked 
crime committed by negroes against white people 
in this county in less than two weeks. If this 
state of things continues, the entire republican 
ticket will meet with defeat here next year.’' 

After her husband’s departure, Olivia, with 
never a thought for his ambition, left the duties 
of her own happy household and went alone to 
her room, and the tears of sympathy and sor- 
row ran down her face for the strong young 
man who had lost his life at the hands of a 
negro thug from whom he had tried to protect 
the little company in the house of God, gathered 
to celebrate the coming of the Prince of Peace. 


26 


The Note of Discord 


CHAPTER V. 

Christmas week was filled with joy and gaiety 
in the Bryan and Carleton homes. Olivia, be- 
fore the holidays, was the busiest woman in 
Camden. The Orphanage, Free Kindergarten, 
and Home for the Aged shared with her own 
dear ones the thoughtful and loving attentions of 
this capable woman. Mrs. Carleton gave bounti- 
fully to those institutions, although she reserved 
her personal attention for her immediate family 
and warmest friends. The servants who had re- 
tired from employment in her household withir. 
the last twenty years were not forgotten. 

But it was Betty, the beautiful young woman 
of the home, who received the fullest share of 
the holiday pleasures. ‘'As ye measure, so shall 
it be measured back to you.^^ Betty scattered 
smiles and sunshine on every day of the year, 
and on Christmas morning friends, both men and 
women, paid back the debt of joy they owed her. 
She confided to her mother that one of her most 
highly prized gifts was a smile from the sullen- 
faced housemaid, Fannie, when she cried out: 
“Christmas gif’, Miss Betty,” and received from 
the fair young woman a present for herself 
and her nameless child in the alley. Fannie, the 
most competent servant in Camden, kept the 
Carleton home in perfect order, with little care 


The Note of Discord 27 

from the mistress; and this negress, in spite of 
her strong race hatred, loved, almost against her 
will, this sunny-hearted Miss Betty, who gave 
her smiles with every command. 

The young men of Betty’s circle rivaled eacli 
other in their attentions to the beautiful girl 
they loved. Colonel Carleton’s favorite suitor 
of his young daughter was Harry Shipley, the 
manly son of his old friend and war comrade. 
Captain Joe Shipley, now sheriff of Harrison 
county. The time had been when the Colonel 
hoped that something warmer than friendship 
would exist between Harry and Betty. The 
young man had ever, on his part, shown a tender 
feeling for Betty, but while she felt for him a 
cordial friendship, yet she had steadily refusetl 
to consider him except in the relation of a dear 
comrade. Her father believed that each of his 
children had a right to his or her own life, 
which is the gift of God, so he kept his own 
counsel, and his family never knew, from his 
lips of one of his dearest dreams. 

Eugene Freeman, young Carleton’s closest 
friend, had come to Camden from a New Eng- 
land city seven years before. Meeting Bruce on 
his early arrival in the south, these two had 
become inseparable friends. Three years before, 
when Betty had come home from a Virginia 
school. Freeman had loved her from first sight, 
with a steady, calm devotion which no difference 
on her part or her preference for another had 
ever been able to dim. The son of an ardent 
aboltionist, Freeman had come south with the 
same misguided ideas concerning the negro, his 


28 The Note of Discord 

condition and treatment in the southern states, 
that are so common to his compatriots; but a 
stern sense of justice and a keen perception soon 
showed him his mistake. Interested in the same 
manufacturing business with the Carletons, Eu- 
gene Freeman was a frequent guest at their 
home. Here, in spite of memories of the past, 
he was warmly welcomed by the old Colonel ancl 
his wife; and here he met in close companion- 
ship his friend Bruce — and Betty, the lovely 
young woman he wished to make his wife. 

‘‘Butterfly Betty,” they called her in playful 
jest, as one well entitled to enjoy the sunshine 
and flowery paths of life. But the keen-witted 
New England nature looked beneath the surface 
and saw the promise of a glorious womanhood 
into which this bud of beauty would soon 
blossom. 

But the fancy of the young girl had been 
caught by the magnetic manner and the brilliant 
charm of Ross Granville, a prominent young 
man of Camden. Ambitious, successful, and 
popular— as Mrs. Carleton had said of him — he 
possessed a daring self-confidence and a peculiar 
command over the wills of others, which direct- 
ed into the proper channels, was destined to make 
him a leader of men. 

Indeed, he was the mother’s favorite among 
Betty’s suitors. Olivia fought with a .strong 
sense of justice against a dislike she felt for 
Granville, and shared with Bruce a preference 
for Freeman among her sister’s lovers. She and 
Mrs. Carleton both regarded Harry Shipley with 
a warm affection, but knew that Betty’s childish 


The Note of Discord 29 

love for him would never grow to something 
stronger and sweeter. 

^‘Mother, can you not influence Betty to re- 
gard Granville’s advances with less favor?” 

Bruce Carleton asked this Christmas morning, 
as he noted the look of shy delight with which 
his sister received this young man’s holiday gift, 
as contrasted to the friendly appreciation she 
manifested for the tokens of her other suitors. 

‘‘My dear boy,” the usually placid mother re- 
plied, with a touch of resentment in her tone, 

“will you never overcome your unreasonable 

prejudice against Ross Granville? I fail to see 
a single objection to him as Betty’s husband. 
Your father cannot even object to his politics, 
as in the case of Olivia’s husband, for Mr. Gran- 
ville is a southern democrat. However, Hugh 
says that the young man is broad-minded in his 
views. If you know anything against him, 
Bruce, it is your duty to tell me.” 

“I acknowledge a natural antipathy for Gran- 
ville,” her son returned. “Though fully realiz- 
ing that personal magnetism by which he influ- 
ences his friends yet I cannot understand why 
a girl of Betty’s fine character can prefer him 
to my friend, Eugene Freeman. Once she re- 
luctantly admitted to me that in spite of her 
fondness for Granville, at times she felt a dis- 
content, a feeling of unrest when with him that 
she had never toown in Eugene’s noble pres- 
ence.” 


30 


The Note oi^ Discord 


CHAPTER VI. 

At her home in Ridgway, Olivia Bryan enjoyed 
the friendship of a next-door neighbor, Mrs. 
Murray, who coming from Ohio, had resided 
in the south for several years. Of an earnest, 
sympathetic nature Mrs. Murray took a keen 
interest in all public questions, and never had 
the principle of the brotherhood of man found a 
response in a warmer, truer heart. 

These two were congenial companions and so, 
one evening, this interesting neighbor agreed to 
spend the evening with Olivia, when a public 
engagement called Hugh Bryan away to the 
city. 

The Judge’s wife — considered one of the 
handsomest young matrons in Camden, looked 
her best at home for she was genuine in every 
sense, needing no aids of art to embellish her 
beauty. 

She greeted her friend with a genial warmth 
of manner, which was one her chief charms, as 
she said: ‘‘Mrs. Murray, it looks selfish to ask 
you to leave your own fireside on this cold 
night but I know how you love to favor a friend, 
and Pm such a coward since I had that fearful 
fright a few years ago that I feel a nervous 
dread when alone.” 

“I assure you, Mrs. Bryan, that I am delighted 
to have this opportunity for one of our chats 
which I enjoy so much,” the visitor replied. 


The Note of Discord 


31 


'"Bob and Bess are so tired from a long play 
outdoors that I couldn't keep them awake, and 
for several years past we haven’t allowed a ser- 
vant to occupy the back room upstairs, even if 
we could have induced one to do so,” explained 
Mrs. Bryan. 

“Why, I should think it would be quite con- 
venient for you to have a servant remain at 
night in your house,” Mrs. Murray said to her 
friend. 

Olivia replied : “So it would be, if conditions 
were now as they once wefe. Even twelve years 
ago, when I was married, I had none of this 
dread of the average negro’s presence in the 
house at night, but for the past two years espe- 
cially this race hatred has steadily grown until 
now we all realize the strained relations which, 
except in individual cases, exist between the 
whites and blacks.” 

“Of course, Mrs. Bryan, I know very little 
of this condition in my home, since my daughter 
and I take care of our own house and see our 
laundress only twice a week.” 

Wishing to enlighten her friend further on the 
subject, Olivia went on: “As a southern girl 
whose parents have always kept servants, and 
as a close observer of human nature, I have 
watched this change in the negro race in the 
south and wonder to what crisis we are tending. 
The time was, Mrs. Murray, when in case of 
sudden danger, as of a runaway horse, or any 
accident, the negro man was the first to the res- 
cue of his white friend and neighbor. Why, 
think of the change! One day, a short time ago,* 


*A true incident. 


32 


The Note of Discord 


when Hugh and I stopped at Pleasure Park on an 
errand, our horse, Dandy, became frightened at 
a group of ostriches upon which we had sud- 
denly turned. Dandy plunged madly, and it was 
with great difficulty that Hugh controlled him, 
while eight negro workmen stood under a shed, 
within twenty feet of the rearing horse. With 
our lives in danger, none of them made an effort 
to help us. ril say, however, that they were 
strangers in Camden. Bad as some of our ne- 
groes are, I hope that few of them are as vicious 
as these strangers.’’ 

'T must acknowledge that my present ideas 
differ very much from those I had before coming 
south,” admitted the bright, fair-minded neigh- 
bor. ''My dear,” she continued, "the joy of my 
life has ever been to say a word which would 
aid another, but I want to tell you of a rebuff 
I received from one of your colored citizens 
soon after my arrival here.* You know George 
Stevens, the negro merchant on Hickory street. 
One day while trading at his store, thinking that 
this man, who is quite intelligent, might derive 
some benefit from my suggestion, I asked him 
this question: 'Why do you colored men not 
demand of the government that it give you a 
state or section of country, where all your race 
could go and make a nation of which the world 
would be proud ?’ ” and here the little woman 
imitated with a serio-comic air the manner in 
which she had addressed Stevens. "The man 
looked at me half amused, as he answered: 


*An incident related to the writer by a friend from Oliio. 


The Note of Discord 


33 


‘Mrs. Murray, you don’t know much about col- 
ored folks, do you?’ I was forced to say that 
I had not been south long and had received 
most of my knowledge of the negro from the 
northern newspapers. T thought you didn’t 
know much al^DUt ’em,’ he continued. ‘Why, 
Mrs. Murray, the worst enemy that a prospus 
colored man has got is one of his own race! 
We has to stay ’mong the white folks to keep 
the mean niggers from killin’ the good ones 
out,’ said the negro philosopher. Since that 
time, you may be sure, that I have been slow 
in expressing any philanthropic views on the 
race question to the colored brother,” concluded 
the merry woman, with a peal of laughter. 

Joining in her mirth, Olivia remarked : 
“While they defame each other among them- 
selves or to some supposed benefactor of the 
race, they’re quick to resent any expression from 
white people about one of their own number, 
even if he be a thief or murderer.” 

“I’ve noticed that and think it is their strangest 
characteristic. I’m glad I’m not compelled to 
keep help, for I’d be afraid to have some of the 
women in my kitchen.* Why, yesterday, while 
sitting on my porch behind the ivy vines, I heard 
two negro servants in conversation as they 
passed. One of the women was Mrs. Layton’s 
cook, and she said to her companion, evidently 
referring to her employer: ‘Never mind — the 
hateful old thing — I’ll burn her biscuit for her in 
the mornin’ I’ ” 


*An incident in the life of a friend of the writer. 


34 The Note of Discord 

‘'And yet Mrs. Layton thinks she has a most 
excellent servant/’ was Olivia’s sarcastic re- 
joinder. “That cook belongs to a vicious fam- 
ily.* When Bess was about four years old, I 
employed this woman’s sister as a nurse. One 
Easter morning I sent my little ones to Sunday 
school in charge of this girl, Melissa, with in- 
structions to leave them at the door in the care 
of some other children, with whom they would 
return home. Hours passed and she was still 
absent. I thought that of course Melissa had 
misunderstood my instructions and was waiting 
near the church for the dismissal of the morning 
services. When they finally reached home, the 
children’s faces were streaked with coal dust 
and the pretty clothing soiled and unfit for 
further use. Upon my demanding what such 
conduct meant, the negro woman impudently 
replied that she had taken Bob and Bess to the 
service at her own church, and for a few min- 
utes after the benediction she had played the 
organ while the children romped up the aisles 
and over the benches. Indignant, I asked if she 
had no sense of wrong at having destroyed their 
dainty clothing. What do you suppose her an-/ 
swer was? ‘Why, they teach us in our Sunday 
school to ruin everything we can of the white 
folks, so as to bring them down so they’ll 
be poor and common like us.’ I could not be- 
lieve such an unheard of story. Next morning 
I told my laundress, one of mother’s old ser- 
vants, what Melissa had said. Her reply was: 


*An incident in the life of the writer. 


The Note of Discord 


35 


‘She ought to be beat to death for tellin’ it!' 
from which I realized the probability of the truth 
of the nurse's statements." 

“You dismissed the girl?" Mrs. Murray asked 
her friend. 

“At once," said Olivia. 

“You paid her the week’s wages?" Mrs. Mur- 
ray again inquired. 

“Certainly," answered Mrs. Bryan. 

“And who paid you," said the shrewd little 
financier, “for the clothing and the time you 
had taken to make it?" 

“Oh," laughed Olivia, “I guess that mother 
would say my heart was warmed by the blood 
of southern ancestors. We feel that as employ- 
ers we must overlook many faults of the ne- 
groes, condone their petty crimes and continue 
to be fair to them, even when they are unjust to 
us." 

“That is the main fault," the just-natured 
neighbor replied, “of the southern housekeepers, 
at least among those of the better class; the 
negro servant gets the best of it from a busi- 
ness standpoint." 

“Mrs. Murray, I wish you could hear mother 
discuss the race and servant question. She takes 
her Bible as authority for every statement she 
makes. If she were with us to-night, she would 
open this Holy Book," here Olivia reached for 
a well-worn Bible which lay on the table near- 
by — “she would turn to the ninth chapter of 
Genesis, 25th, 26th and 27th verses ; here it is : 
‘A servant of servants shall he be unto his breth- 
ren.' ‘God shall enlarge Japheth and he shall 


36 


The Note of Discord 


dwell in the tents of Shem, and Canaan shall be 
his servant.’ Then mother would read the third 
chapter of Genesis, where, for Eve’s disobedi- 
ence, God puts the curse on woman. And, Mrs. 
Murray,” Olivia asked in an earnest voice, "'what 
mother since the days of Eve, despite the skill 
and science of the centuries, has ever entirely 
escaped the curse of God? Mother would tell 
you further that, with the position of the negro 
forever sealed by His Word, no man or set 
of men can ever permanently make him the white 
man’s social and political equal. But, ah! she 
would also say that all through this blessed 
Book God reckons man’s servants next to his 
wife and children for care and consideration. 
And this is what the masters of the south did, 
with few exceptions, and both my parents have 
this feeling for their servants to-day. Father 
says that when the negro filled the place for 
which God ordained him, he was, in an humble 
way, a character for the world to admire; but 
now, out of that place, he bids fair to become 
hated among the nations.” 

As she spoke in emphatic tones, Mrs. Murray, 
looking with shining eyes upon her intelligent 
friend, said feelingly: 'T’m glad that I’ve had 
an opportunity, through old Mahaly’s love for 
you, to catch a glimpse of the old south in the 
relation of mistress and slave. Now, Mary 
Steele is a good negro woman. What do you 
think she told me when I engaged her for my 
laundress three weeks ago? With a pleasant 
smile she remarked: * ‘‘Well, you’ll find I won’t 


*An incident in the life of the writer. 


The Note of Discord 37 

tear your clothes for you/ T hope not, Mary/ 
I replied. M dislike mending more than any 
other part of household work.’ 'Oh,’ she said, T 
mean I won’t never tear ’em on purpose, like 
some of the niggers do, just ’cause you’ve got 
better things than they’ve got.’ So far she has 
kept her word, and my washing is returned each 
week in perfect order.” 

"While she worked for me before marrying, 
Mary Steele had the best disposition I ever 
knew,” was Mrs. Bryan’s comment. "When I 
was so ill six years ago, she nursed Bess who 
loves her until this day, almost as well as she 
loves me. I would never have given her up, 
except that she married about the meanest negro 
man in Harrison county.” 

"Mary thinks you put up the moon,” declared 
Olivia’s jolly little visitor. "I verily believe that 
the reason she seems to esteem me, as she does, 
is because I am Mrs. Bryan’s next-door neigh- 
bor. But seriously, do you think it’s right to 
allow a servant the liberty you have told me 
your mother allows her cook — that of taking 
the cold food every day, since no mention was 
made to that effect in the contract, when old 
Ellen accepted her position? Do you call that 
business? And is that encouraging the negroes 
to overcome their lack of honesty, which you 
claim, is their worst failing?” asked this earnest 
reformer. 

"Well, you see, mother belongs to the old type 
of southerners and I believe she thinks that her 
cooks are entitled to all the cold food after the 
meal is over. Of course, they take pains 


38 


The Note of Discord 


to have as much left over as possible. Bruce 
contends that one cook will carry away enough, 
with a pittance of her own added, to feed a dozen 
negroes and while they eat these good things, 
abuse the white people with a venom of which 
they alone are equal. Hugh says the reason 
there is so much crime in Camden is because 
cooks employed in good families feed these 
vicious blacks from the white man’s table. By 
the aid of many of their women this class of 
negro men are supported in idleness, thus giv- 
ing them the opportunity to fulfill well the old 
proverb, 'Satan finds mischief still for idle hands 
to do.’ But I belong to the new regime of 
southern housekeepers and I will not knowingly 
keep a member of 'the basket brigade,’ as Bruce 
calls it, in my service, though I’m sure most of 
my cooks find a way by which to defeat my 
watchfulness. Our last bill at Bradley’s, the 
grocer, is larger than it has ever been before 
and I’m satisfied that during my recent illness 
my cook has been dishonest. Mother says I 
ought not to worry so, but I tell her that she 
can afford to be lax with servants as father has 
had money all his life. However, with me, cir- 
cumstances are different, and when day after 
day the cooks carry off a little sugar, coffee and 
lard they are taking away Bob’s college educa- 
tion and Bessie’s music and foreign travel,” con- 
cluded this original woman. 

"Have you suffered much from dishonesty, 
outside the kitchen, Mrs. Bryan?” 

"When I was ill that dreadful year, and when 
the children were babies, there was enough 


The Note of Discord 


39 


stolen from me to fill this room. It was usually 
articles of minor value not worth having trouble 
to recover. However, a negro who nursed Bess 
stole my engagement ring,” Olivia said. 

*^Did you recover it?” 

^'No. One of the detectives. unwisely entrust- 
ed the secret to a negro man who was paid to 
help locate the ring, and of course he told the 
nurse that she was being watched. Consequently 
she disposed of the diamond. However, we did 
recover a pair of Hugh’s cuff-buttons which the 
girl had stolen along with the ring.” 

“Does Miss Betty lose much in that way?” 
Mrs. Murray inquired. 

“Very little. The servants at father’s home 
are afraid of Bruce Carleton. Whenever any- 
thing of value is missing, he talks at the break- 
fast table about Detective Harvey and soon 
somebody finds (?) the misplaced article. Then 
mother and Betty are so grateful to the servant 
who found the lost property; but most of the 
darkies are sharp enough to understand Bruce’s 
sarcastic smiles. Hugh is so different and 
despises a sensation. He will say, ‘Let it go, 
Olivia; I’d rather buy a new one than be wor- 
ried’ ; so, you see, we are easy prey for the house- 
hold thief.” 

“But, Mrs. Bryan, you don’t mean that there 
are no honest negroes ?” 

“I could not be so unjust; there are many 
honest negroes; but with the masses of the race 
the lines of honesty are loosely drawn. A few 
months ago, when one of my cook’s associates 
had finished a year’s term in the workhouse for 


40 The Note of Discord 

larceny, his friends gave him a TestibuF* where 
the newly released thief was the honored guest 
of the evening/' 

'T heard of that 'festibul,' " laughed the vis- 
itor. ^'Wasn't it Lucy’s beau — the girl who re- 
paid your kindness by bringing a burglar to your 
house ?” 

''Yes, but you must remember, Mrs. Murray, 
that Lucy was of an unusually ungrateful na- 
ture.” 

"Humph,” said the northern woman, in a 
tone of disgust, "it seems to me that ingratitude 
is a racial defect with the negroes. But I con- 
fess that I don’t know how to deal with them.” 

"I, no doubt, comprehend their nature better,” 
was Mrs. Bryan’s comment. "You must always 
speak to them in a tone of command, kindly, of 
course but the note of authority must ever be 
present if you wish to control negro servants. I 
never say 'please’ to them unless it is to ask a 
favor out of their regular line of duty, for which 
I thank them warmly. On employing a new ser- 
vant, I always don my most becoming gown, then 
a few hours later I hurry into the kitchen to pre- 
pare a fancy dish — a dainty salad or delicious ice 
— and I have won her admiration and respect! 
Whenever occasion requires that I go among 
their settlements, I go with the air of the Queen 
of Sheba and Lady Bountiful combined. I give 
freely to them when they are in distress — food, 
fuel, medicine or any material comfort. I do 
this for them and while I don’t expect apprecia- 
tion, they know it pays to have me for a friend.” 


*An incident in the life of one of the writer’s servants. 


The Note of Discord 


41 


‘‘But they have no gratitude for the people 
who set them free — an old soldier of the Grand 
Army arouses no emotion in their hearts/’ cried 
the patriotic Ohio woman. 

‘T have never heard a negro in the south 
speak a word of praise or gratitude about the 
northern soldiers/’ Olivia replied to her friend, 
continuing: “The case at the Orphanage is a 
good illustration of their lack of this virtue. 
Those negroes at the home knew that Mrs. Rand 
was a northern woman, a true philanthropist in 
every sense, and a friend to their race, yet at a 
just dismissal of the colored cook, they were 
ready to take the life of an innocent girl.” 

“That is the most heinous crime attempted 
since I have been south,” Mrs. Murray said. 

“It is horrible,” assented Olivia. “Mrs. Rand 
has suffered with insomnia ever since and Minnie 
is almost a nervous wreck. There is a strong 
undercurrent of indignation in Camden over this 
crime, and the murder of Frank Railey has not 
improved matters. But, speaking of Grand 
Army men, Virginia Thomson, Bradley’s book- 
keeper, told me a few days ago that her father 
and yours were comrades during the Civil War.” 

“Yes, they both belonged to the Ninety-ninth 
Ohio Regiment, and I’ve heard father say that 
the Union never sent a braver man to battle,” 
she commented with warmth of feeling. 

“I know he is a good citizen. Hugh says he’s 
the most industrious man of his age in the coun- 
ty. He is superintendent of Oak wood Cemetery 
and considered an indispensable man in his busi- 
ness. And his daughter, Virginia, is a sweet. 


42 


The Note of Discord 


interesting girl/’ finished Olivia, as her hus- 
band’s step was heard on the veranda. 

When Mrs. Murray arose to take her de- 
parture, she invited Mrs. Bryan to accompany her 
to a business meeting at the Orphanage, the 
following Wednesday morning. 

Olivia readily consented: '‘When I go to the 
city I must see Bradley about that big bill 
for the last month’s groceries. Virginia is so 
correct in her accounts. I’m sure that my cook 
bought groceries for her own use during my 
illness at that time.” 

It is well in God’s mercy that we cannot know 
what a day will bring forth, for the soul of 
Olivia Bryan would have recoiled in horror could 
she have foreseen the black crime which would 
darken the life of Virginia Thomson before the 
next Wednesday morning. 


The Note of Discord 


43 


CHAPTER VII. 

The factory owned by Carleton and Company 
was situated at Wilton, a suburb of Camden, in 
the shadows of Grand Mountain. On Tuesday 
evening, near the last of January, Bruce Carle- 
ton closed his office in the big factory building 
shortly after six o’clock to board the car for his 
home in the city. Nearing the station, he was 
stopped by a group of men who, in angry ex- 
citement were discussing a foul crime that had 
just been committed on one of the young women 
of their suburb. Virginia Thomson, a daughter 
of the superintendent of Oakwood Cemetery — 
herself bookkeeper for Bradley, the Main street 
grocer — had left the street car just before six 
o’clock, returning from work at the earliest hour 
at which she was free from the duties of her 
position. 

With the freedom of the woman who relies 
on her own exertions for support and with the 
independence of the girl born north of the Ohio 
river. Miss Thomson was accustomed to walk 
alone from this station to her picturesque cot- 
tage home within the cemetery gates, a distance 
of less than two squares. A marble yard, sur- 
rounded by a plank fence, lay between these 
points and two electric lines passed there, with 
a car due every ten minutes. 


44 The Note of Discord 

As the young woman hurried along in the 
gloom of the winter night, she was suddenly 
seized by the iron grasp of a negro man, and 
before she could give but one stifled cry for 
help — unheard in the homes nearby, at the 
busiest hour of the evening — a leather strap, 
thrown around her neck, choked her to help- 
lessness; the grip of a giant tossed her over 
the fence in the darkness — and the brightness 
and sweetness of life were over and a fate, worse 
than any death, had overtaken Virginia Thom- 
son. 

The black brute at once made his escape, 
though not before his victim had been able, by 
the light of a car in the distance, to see and 
note his appearance. Bruce, boiling with rage, 
could scarcely restrain his impatience as he 
waited with a crowd of gathering men for Sher- 
iff Shipley, coming in haste at a telephone call 
with deputies and bloodhounds from Camden, 
four miles away. Arriving on the scene, at the 
earliest moment possible, the sheriff instructed 
his deputies to put the dogs on the trail of the 
negro, then hastened to the stylish, well-kept 
cottage, where the unfortunate girl made her 
home. Possessing a warm heart and courteous 
manner, this officer endeavored to lighten the 
grief of the horror-stricken family by assurances 
of sympathy and aid in the capture of the black 
fiend; but words of comfort and kindness at 
this tragic time fell dull on the ears of the listen- 
ers, and Captain Shipley, his heart wrung with 
sorrow, went back to the spot where the crime 
had been committed. Here the keen-scented 


The Note of Discord 


45 


dogs running back and forth in confusion, 
strange to say, refused to start a trail. Evidently 
the man, realizing that the blood-hounds would 
be used in his pursuit, had att;empted to throw 
them oif the scent by racing to and fro in a 
roundabout way, stepping at intervals on the 
stones scattered about the marble-yard. There- 
fore there was nothing the sheriff could do ex- 
cept return to the city, offer a reward for the 
negro's capture, and arrange for the deputies to 
begin a vigilant search the following day. 

Early Wednesday morning Walter Hinton, a 
young foreman employed for the past ten years 
in an establishment near the Carletons' factory, 
went to Sheriff Shipley with the words : “I think, 
Captain, I can help you to find that black brute 
you're looking for. 

‘Xast night, as I was waiting for a car at the 
Wilton station, a negro man came up to me and 
asked me for a match, saying he wanted to light 
his cigarette. It was a very dark night, as you 
know, but giving it to him I saw his face in the 
light of the match as he turned away. I noticed 
he was carelessly twirling a strap around his 
hand. I don't know his name but he’s one of 
the darkies who was working a short time ago 
on the Stone Church out there. I saw him 
two or three days ago, with three other men, 
going to work while I was on my way to 
the factory. My friends say they never saw any- 
body who can remember people like I can. Fd 
know that ‘nigger' the minute I laid eyes on him, 
and I’d sure be glad to help you find him, not 


46 The Note of Discord 

only on account of that young lady, but for the 
sake of all the women of Harrison county/' 

Sheriff Shipley, expressing his thanks, gladly 
accepted the foreman's aid and gave his deputies 
orders to accord the young man every assistance, 
while he himself continued to hunt for the rapist 
in every direction. Then Hinton, accompanied 
by an officer, through four days of dreary Janu- 
ary weather, searched the streets and alleys of 
Camden, in its slums and dives, for the negro 
criminal. 

On the fifth morning the vigilant men were 
rewarded. As two negroes drove past, Hinton 
throwing his hand on the shoulder of the deputy, 
said softly: ''There's the man, Murphy," and 
pointed to the one sitting on the left side of the 
buggy. 

He proved to be Ned Jackson who, a short 
time before, had been at work on the Stone 
Church at Wilton. 

After the arrest, young Hinton said to the 
sheriff: "I prefer not to accept the reward for 
fear the negroes of the town will impugn my 
motives.” 

'T cannot allow that," Shipley replied, "This 
reward was offered in good faith, and if Jack- 
son is found to be the guilty man, you must ac- 
cept it. Think what would be the attitude of the 
vicious negroes of Camden when they learned 
that you had refused to take this reward on 
account of their opinion," 

"That being your view of the matter, I'll ac- 
cept it," replied this modest, upright citizen; one 
of that number who, living their lives earnestly 


The Note of Discord 47 

and faithfully in an humble way, has made the 
name of ^'American workingman'’ an honor 
among the nations. 

* On the following Tuesday upon opening his 
pay envelope, Walter Hinton found inside the 
full amount of his weekly wages. Supposing a 
mistake had been made, he inquired of the pay- 
master who said that he had been instructed 
by Major Pendleton to place the usual sum 
in the foreman's envelope. 

Major Pendleton, the chief owner of the fac- 
tory, was a citizen who stood high in the regard 
of his fellow-men, being an interested worker in 
all public affairs. His title of major had been 
won in the Federal Army during the Civil War, 
and next to his home and church, this loyal old 
soldier loved his comrades of the Grand Army, 
of whose post he was the commander in Cam- 
den. 

Hurrying to his employer's office, Walter Hin- 
ton expressed his appreciation of the financial 
kindness just done him. “Don't mention it," 
was the Major's reply. “I am only too glad to 
show a slight appreciation of your efforts in 
assisting Sheriff Shipley in the capture of the 
negro, Jackson. I am sure the right man has 
been caught. I know you, Hinton, for well it may 
be said, Tf you want to know me, come work for 
me.' A man of your retiring nature who has 
always shrunk from the public gaze, would never 
have offered your help, in such a service, without 
positive conviction of the negro's identity. 

*An incident that occurred in Chattanooga, Tennes- 
see, in January, 1906 


48 The Note of Discord 

''Ten years in our employ have proven your 
honesty and integrity. I would be much pleased 
over the capture of such a wretch, under any 
circumstances,” he added, looking on the face of 
the young man smiling with pleasure over his 
employer’s praises; "but I am doubly gratified 
that one of our men should have been instru- 
mental in effecting the capture of the assailant 
of that worthy young girl, a daughter of one of 
my comrades of the Grand Army.” 

An undercurrent of intense excitement had 
prevailed for four days throughout Camden. 
Within six weeks three dreadful and unprovoked 
crimes — two of them against women — had been 
committed by negroes in Harrison county and a 
reign of terror was controlling the town. The 
history of legal punishment in connection with 
the crime of rape in this community justified 
such a condition. 

Fifteen years before a negro man had at- 
tempted to assault a white woman on a lonely 
road beyond the river. He was arrested, speed- 
ily tried, and given the limit of the law, twenty- 
one years in the penitentiary. After serving for 
a short time he was released on the plea that a 
technicality of the law had been violated in his 
trial ! At the next offence of a similar nature, a 
negro, Alfred Sharp, had been promptly hanged 
to the county bridge by a band of determined 
men. 

Since the night of the assault at the Orphan- 
age, few women would remain alone at home 
throughout the day unless they sat behind care- 
fully locked doors; nor would they dare, un- 


The Note of Discord 49 

escorted, to walk the neighboring streets at dusk. 
Young girls were instructed, if returning from 
school during their mothers’ absence, to spend 
the afternoon hours in some nearby home. 

Little Bess Bryan, while visiting the Carle- 
ton home one afternoon, related to her grand- 
mother and uncle an incident which had occurred 
that morning. ‘‘As I was going along the street 
to-day on my way to school, a negro man 
stopped and asked me, ‘Where are you going, 
little girl?’ ‘To school,’ I told him. ‘Come, go 
with me,’ he said, ‘I’ve got a nice box of candy 
I’ll give you.’ But I remembered what mother 
had said to me and ran away fast as I could.” 

As she told the story in childish innocence. 
Uncle Bruce, his face aflame with horror, seized 
the little girl in his arms and endeavored to ob- 
tain a description of the negro’s appearance. 
But Bess, in her haste and fright, was able to 
give only a vague account of the appearance of 
the man who had thus addressed her. 

Realizing the • uneasy attitude among the cit- 
izens of Camden, Sheriff Shipley saw the neces- 
sity of removing Ned Jackson to a place of safe- 
ty, and accompanied by some of his deputies, 
he took the brutish prisoner to Bainsville, a town 
one hundred and fifty miles distant, on the after- 
noon train. Bruce Carleton did not come to sup- 
per that night but telephoned his mother, saying 
he would be engaged with a party of friends 
until later in the evening. Betty had gone with 
Eugene Freeman to see the comedy star. Rose 
Melville, play “Sis Hopkins,” in that inimitable 


*A true incident. 


so The Note of Discord 

way which is her own special gift; and this 
serious-natured man enjoyed well the gay com- 
panionship of the merry girl who always chose 
to look on the sunniest phase of life. 

The old Colonel, absorbed in his evening pa- 
per, was lost in thought to the world, when Mrs. 
Carleton heard the courthouse bell ring the 
riot call. She had not heard it for fifteen years 
— since that night when the negro, Alfred Sharp, 
was hanged on Harrison county bridge. 

She telephoned the sheriff's office where a 
deputy, alert and courteous, usually responded 
to all inquiries. But no answer came to her call 
that night. By a complex arrangement of the 
town, the county's prison stood in the midst of 
one of the best residence portions of Camden, 
only six blocks distant from the Carleton home. 
Telephoning a friend in a square adjoining the 
jail, Mrs. Carleton learned that a mob of several 
hundred men had quietly formed with the 
avowed purpose of lynching Ned Jackson but 
when convinced of his presence in Bainsville, 
the enraged though orderly crowd had called for 
Ned Jones, the assailant of the girl at the Or- 
phanage. Then the judge of the criminal 
court endeavored to convince them of the use- 
lessness of an attempt upon the jail. However, 
despite this and other efforts, the determined 
men attacked the jail but were repulsed by the 
valiant deputies whom Sheriff Shipley had left in 
charge during his absence. The friend added 
that the mob still lingered, and another outbreak 
might occur at any moment 


The Note of Discord 51 

Fearing to say a word to her high-spirited 
husband, Mrs. Carleton went to an upper room 
which looked in the direction of the jail — ah! 
she knew now who the party of friends were 
with whom Bruce would spend the evening. She 
listened eagerly for a sound from that direction 
but all was quiet; the rattle of a belated wagon 
or the soft fall of a horse's foot on the asphalt 
pavement was all that broke the silence. Then 
she prayed God to keep her son from doing harm 
to the wicked man that night, and if, by any 
chance, the wretched negro should be innocent, 
that his innocence might be clearly proven; but, 
as she prayed, she remembered her Heavenly 
Father is a just as well as a merciful God, and 
she asked Him, if the negro should be guilty, that 
a righteous punishment might await a man who, 
with so foul a crime, had darkened the life of an 
innocent girl. Then she crept softly to the tele- 
phone and again calling her friend, learned that 
the mob had disbanded. 

With a womanly refinement that had always 
kept her from spying on the actions of the men 
of her home, she heard long after midnight, in 
the quiet of her room, the sound of her son's 
night-key in the door and his tired step on the 
stair. 

Next morning the gentle mother saw Bruce 
come downstairs sleepy-eyed and weary. He 
addressed her and his father in respectful though 
non-committal tones; but spoke harsh words to 
lazy Dick, the stable boy who ran alert to do 
his bidding. The black maid Eliza looked 


52 


The Note of Discord 


askance at the new ^‘Mr. Bruce” who came to the 
breakfast table that morning, and her hands did 
swifter and defter work than they had ever done 
before, even in the Carleton service I 


The Note of Discord 


S3 


CHAPTER VIIL 

And now strenuous days began for the officers 
and citizens of Harrison county. A feeling of 
unrest pervaded the community among both 
white and colored population. While the major- 
ity was convinced of Jackson’s guilt yet some 
attached a possible doubt to his case, and the 
officers of the law were determined that he 
should have a just and honest trial. Sheriff 
Shipley had, on the day of arrest, hurried him to 
Bainsville with such dispatch that the victim of 
his crime had been unable to reach the jail in 
order to identify him as her assailant. 

A few days later Miss Thomson, accompanied 
by Sheriff Shipley went to Bainsville to prove 
the identity of the prisoner. Here Sheriff Ship- 
ley resorted to an ingenious device that he might 
protect his prisoner. Placing Jackson and two 
other men around a table in the sheriff’s office, 
he then inquired of the young woman if she 
had ever before seen one of them. She prompt- 
ly pointed to the stolid Jackson, exclaiming: 
^‘That’s the man!” 

The officers of the court in Camden set the 
trial of the accused rapist more than a month 
away, trusting that popular wrath might become 
subdued before that time. 

On the day appointed for the trial, Sheriff 


54 


The Note of Discord 


Shipley brought his prisoner back to Camden. 
At the depot they were met by the chief of 
police who, with a band of patrolmen and a 
guard of mounted officers preceded and sur- 
rounded the cab in which the brutish prisoner 
was seated by the sheriff’s side while the valiant 
deputies formed a phalanx in the rear. In these 
precautions the white citizens saw the strong arm 
of the law around a prisoner in its care; but to 
the crowding multitudes of ignorant negroes, 
Ned Jackson was a conquering hero, coming to 
receive their praise and sympathy. 

Thus protected, Jackson was driven to the 
courthouse, where armed guards patrolled its 
grounds and the adjoining streets. Before his 
arrival instructions had been issued that no citi- 
zen be allowed to enter here; so the various 
offices were closed — a county of ninety thousand 
souls must suspend business for a that a 
specimen of the lowest type of humanity, ar- 
raigned for a deed, the most beastly in the cal- 
endar of crime should have a fair and impartial 
trial at the hands of just and honest men. 

Judge Russell of the criminal court had ap- 
pointed three of the most able men at the bar 
to defend this pauper prisoner : Attorney Wool- 
ford, whose brilliant legal talents were known 
throughout the state, though many had im- 
pugned the methods by which he so often 
brought his clients’ hopes to success; the sec- 
ond lawyer was a man high in the confidence 
of the people and in the councils of Camden’s 
leading church ; the third was known as an ambi- 


The Note of Discord 55 

tious and popular young attorney, rapidly rising 
to success at the local bar. 

The jury had been carefully selected, being 
composed of men who had come to Camden from 
different sections of the Union. As Jackson’s 
trial progressed, the victim of the foul crime told 
her story with a calm and sensible testimony 
which boded ill for the prisoner’s welfare. Men 
sat in the court-room with downcast eyes and 
averted faces as the young woman recited the 
details of the vile deed. One juror, a man of 
strong, emotional nature, wrought up by the 
tragic aspect of the case and the duty he owed 
the prisoner, cried : ‘'Young lady, be careful ! 
Remember! you have a God to meet.” Looking 
towards the emotional juror with that calm dig- 
nity which at a critical moment characterizes 
the women of her own section the wronged girl 
answered: ‘T would not have the blood of an 
innocent man upon my head. I know, sir, that 
I have a God to meet, and just as surely as I 
have a God to meet — ^just so surely do I believe 
this man committed that crime.” 

Next the young workman, Hinton, gave his 
account of the fated strap and the prisoner’s 
presence near the spot a few minutes before the 
assault had been committed. 

The lawyers for the defense, more than ful- 
filling the oath of their profession, and seeing be- 
fore them in the future a long list of colored 
clients — the most profitable in Camden — used 
every art of ingenious, intelligent minds to break 
down and impugn the testimony of the witnesses 
for the prosecution. Five negro men, known as 


56 The Note of Discord 

Jackson’s friends swore that he had been with 
them at ‘'The Last Chance” saloon the moment 
the crime was committed at Wilton, a mile away ; 
they had noticed the time of his presence there 
by the clock which hung on the wall of the 
saloon. But the state’s attorney knew that the 
old timepiece had not been in running order 
for more than a year. Then the dauntless wit- 
nesses swore that on Tuesday evening they had 
noted the time of Ned Jackson’s presence by the 
new clock which had recently been put into 
place. 

But the state’s attorney called the clock mer- 
chant and his workman to the witness stand, and 
by the record of their day books of January 26th 
proved the new clock had been placed upon the 
wall of the saloon on Thursday morning follow- 
ing Jackson’s crime. The sinister motive for the 
purchase of the new clock was immediately seen 
by the jury and the infamy of the perjured wit- 
nesses disclosed. 

Again was Miss Thomson called to the witness 
stand, at the request of an anxious juror, that he 
might be reassured about her certainty of Jack- 
son’s guilt. She was a second time — her face 
now streaming with tears — compelled to tell the 
story of the vile deed in the presence of her 
brutish assailant; then the emotional juror who 
had at first cautioned the young woman to “be 
careful,” now thoroughly convinced of the pris- 
oner’s infamy, said to the man by his side: “If 
I could get to him I’d tear his heart out now !” 

In vain did the prisoner’s counsel denounce 

i ' 


The Note of Discord 57 

Hinton as ‘‘a perjured scoundrel/' In vain did 
these lawyers attempt to confuse in the minds of 
the jury the identity of the two clocks on the 
wall of '‘The Last Chance" saloon, one of the 
lowest dives in Camden. In vain did they tran- 
scend their professional authority as lawyers in 
their unnatural zeal to prove an alibi for their 
brutish client. 

But the jury had seen the handwriting on the 
wall — ^the handwriting of the clock by which 
the dauntless witnesses swore of Ned Jackson's 
presence — in "The Last Chance" saloon that 
fated Tuesday evening — the clock which had not 
been placed there before the following Thursday 
morning ! 

Yet so careful and conscientious was the 
charge of the judge on the bench, in the inter- 
est of the prisoner that the jury stayed out ten 
hours — ten hours — while the women of Camden 
waited in scorn and silent anger — dismayed that 
such a trial was possible in a land where honor 
for pure womanhood had been the vaunted boast 
of centuries! 

But after ten hours' deliberation, the twelve 
just men filed back into the jury box and the 
foreman pronounced Ned Jackson "Guilty!" 

Guilty — by the tearful testimony of his unfor- 
tunate victim. Guilty — by the tell-tale strap and 
the evidence of an honest, unprejudiced witness. 
Guilty — by the perjured lips of five of the lowest 
of his race who, seeking to prove an alibi for 
their fiendish friend only revealed their own 
infamy. Guilty — by the verdict of twelve intelli- 


58 The Note of Discord 

gent men, in truth and integrity the superior of 
those who, for their own winning to power or 
place have dared to impugn their honor. Guilty 
— of a crime so beastly that its perpetrator, in 
the eyes of all decent men, is regarded on a lower 
plane than the rattlesnake or the mad dog ! 


The Note of Discord 


59 


CHAPTER IX. 

With Ned Jackson pronounced guilty the 
white citizens of Camden, expecting the speedy 
execution of the sentence, settled down well 
content that the law should take its course. 
Judge Russell refused Jackson a new trial, see- 
ing no warranted grounds upon which to grant 
one; and Attorney Woolford, the main counsel 
for the defense, had declined to ask for a new 
hearing from the Supreme Court of the state. 

But the negroes of Camden, rebellious and 
defiant, refused to consider the heinousness of 
the crime for which one of their number had 
been sentenced to death. It is doubtful whether 
the ignorant masses of their race, with their 
perverted moral nature, could comprehend its 
horror; and with a few noble exceptions the 
colored populace loudly declared Ned Jackson 
innocent, despite his clearly proven guilt. They 
denounced the over-zealous lawyers of this pau- 
per client, claiming that in his hour of greatest 
need they had deserted him, when declining to 
ask a new trial before the Supreme Court of 
Tennessee. 

Camden is a cosmopolitan town, its popula- 
tion being composed of people who, coming from 
various sections of the Union during its great 
financial boom twenty years previous, had 


6o 


The Note of Discord 


changed its character from that of a typical 
southern city; and many friends and neighbors 
regarded the race question from a different point 
of view. One-third of Camden's inhabitants 
were negroes that for more than a score of years 
had been crowding to this place — their Mecca — 
from other southern states. 

A tone of dissatisfaction even pervaded the 
servants of the Carleton home. The sulky house- 
maid, Fannie, filled with a strong race hatred, 
sat at the servants' table which was loaded with 
the best food of the season, and spoke low, bitter 
words about ‘'the white folks who want to kill 
out all our people." Mrs. Carleton, realizing 
this change, gathered the reins of her household 
with a firmer hand, and the discontented ser- 
vants yielded for a time to the renewed control 
of the mistress. 

In the meantime, at Olivia's home, cooks came 
and went with the weeks. Resentment was 
abroad in the negroes' hearts ; the fact that Judge 
Bryan was a republican officeholder and his wife 
a well-known friend of the poor and sick of their 
race had no power with them in their present 
defiant state. 

Meanwhile, the light-hearted Betty sang and 
danced her way along, heeding little the trage- 
dies enacted around her. In this southern home 
of the old type, one ambition of both parents had 
always been to give each of their young daugh- 
ters a life of brightness and innocent gaiety — 
soon marriage would follow; then husband and 
home and children would be her portion for the 
rest of her life. 


The Note of Discord 6i 

The merry girl, though non-committal as to 
her final intentions regarding matrimony, how- 
ever, at times showed a preference for Ross 
Granville which still irritated her brother and 
far-seeing sister. ^'Bruce,'' said Olivia, one 
evening, as the two sat together in the Bryan 
home, ^'Betty has disappointed me for the first 
time in her life in continuing to prefer Mr. Gran- 
ville to her other admirers. But I know that her 
fancy only is caught by the dash and charm of 
his magnetic nature. Besides, he’s the most pop- 
ular man among the girls in Camden, and makes 
love to Betty with a vim that’s hard to resist.” 

‘'Which may be pleasant enough for the pres- 
ent,” interrupted her interested listener. “A 
magnetic charm is all right for the lover but let 
my sister’s husband possess the principles of 
manhood. I wouldn’t give Eugene Freeman 
for a carload of men like Ross Granville,” Bruce 
continued earnestly, as he again returned to the 
enthusiasm that always marked his conversation 
concerning this close friend: “Ross Granville 
is vain, selfish and jealous; while Eugene, though 
earnest and manly is as true and tender as a 
woman.” 

“But, Bruce dear,” Mrs. Bryan returned, “you 
make a great mistake in persistently singing 
Mr. Freeman’s praises to Betty. The heart of 
a young girl is a curious and complex thing. 
Your scorn of Mr. Granville only causes Betty 
to defend him and antagonizes her against your 
friend of whom you continually boast in her 
presence. Then, Granville understands a wom- 
an’s nature and though showing his love and 


62 


The Note of Discord 


preference for Betty, at the same time he isn’t 
entirely indifferent to the charms of other wom- 
en while Mr. Freeman pays devoted and ex- 
clusive homage to her. Why, he hardly looks 
at another girl if Betty’s in the room! If he’d 
only show attention to some other girl, Betty 
would rouse from her indifference; for I know 
that deep in her heart she has a warm regard 
for Eugene Freeman.” 

‘T swear,” said Bruce, ‘‘you women are curi- 
ous creatures. Paying attention to other wom- 
en, during courtship, may seem right enough in 
a fellow but you howl like the devil if he even 
looks at another woman after he’s married, 
Olivia, I’ve always said you had the brains of the 
Carleton family,, but you have me mixed up this 
evening,” Bruce added with a half-vexed air. 

“At any rate,” Olivia smilingly continued, 
“you will see that if you will speak pleasantly to 
Betty of Mr. Granville and more coldly of your 
friend, it will have a better effect.” 

“I can’t say anything about this man I detest 
but I’ll promise not to criticise him again — at 
least where she’ll hear it — and I’d be willing to 
call Eugene the biggest rascal in Camden if that 
would make Betty love him,” said the young 
man, loyally, as, bidding good-bye to his sister, 
he went home to prepare for a short trip out 
of the city that night. The Carleton Company, 
having just learned that part of a cargo of mate- 
rial for use in their factory had been misplaced, 
Bruce was going to New Orleans that he might 
endeavor to trace it. 

A few days later the newspapers announced 


The Note of Discord 


63 


that Hunter and Wallace, two colored lawyers, 
had left for Washington to present the case of 
Ned Jackson before the United States Supreme 
Court. 

Little heed was paid to their departure, as it 
was supposed to be a scheme of the negroes 
which they hoped might excite public attention 
to Jackson’s case, and scarcely a serious thought 
was given it. But Judge Bryan, in touch with the 
inner circle of court news, stopped at the home 
of his wife’s father and repeated to him the 
rumor that Attorney Woolford, the most in- 
genious mind at the bar, after having himself 
drawn up the petitions to the United States Su- 
preme Court, in behalf of the condemned pris- 
oner, had instructed the colored lawyers how 
to proceed on their arrival in Washington. 

“Woolford has done that, partly to capture 
the negro clientage in Camden but mostly for 
the sake of his own pride in his peculiar and 
successful achievements at the bar,” Colonel 
Carleton observed, adding: “That’s in his line 
of business.” 

“Colonel, do you believe there is any danger 
of the Supreme Court interfering in this mat- 
ter?” 

“I don’t think that idea is worth considering.” 
Then, after a moment of deeper thought, he 
cried, “No, never — the great and good men, 
chosen from the whole Union to sit in the high- 
est tribunal of the land, will not interfere in the 
case of a rapist legally condemned to death by 
the court of a southern state.” Then with 
awakened enthusiasm, the Colonel continued : 


64 The Note of Discord 

''Why, sir, when the United States declared war, 
in defense of Cuba, our southern boys marched 
to the rescue, side by side with their northern 
brothers. Our country, divided by one conflict, 
has been cemented by another. Never will this 
reunited nation fling back into the face of the 
south the same old questions that caused the 
Civil War — those of state's rights and the negro 
— and that negro — the rapist of a white woman 
— legally condemned to death by a state court of 
Tennessee," the old soldier exclaimed fervently; 
then went on, "You say, Hugh, that Woolford 
claims Jackson’s constitutional rights have been 
violated. What grounds has he for such a pro- 
ceeding?" the Colonel asked his son-in-law. 

"On the grounds that there were no negroes 
on the jury," Hugh Bryan answered with a 
smile, awaiting the wrath to come. 

"No negroes on the jury — by Jove, sir — Wool- 
ford has insulted the whole south! Why, he 
knows as well as I do, that you couldn’t find a 
negro murderer of another negro in this state 
who would consent to be tried by a jury of his 
own race," exploded the old Colonel in righte- 
ous anger. "He should have made that objection 
when the jury was empaneled. But on what 
other grounds, Hugh, does he base the claims 
of constitutional rights violated?" 

"From the fact that one of the jury, in speak- 
ing of the prisoner, exclaimed: 'If I could get 
to him. I’d tear his heart out now !’ " the Judge 
replied. 

"Why I" exclaimed the old Colonel, "Jackson’s 
attorneys did not object at the time to that re- 


The Note of Discord 65 

mark which was made just after the evidence 
was in/' 

‘‘No," Hugh Bryan resumed, “I see Woolford 
was careful not to mention the first words of that 
same juror, when he cautioned Miss Thomson, 
while giving her evidence, to ‘be careful/ I’ll 
never forget that impressive sight, when that 
shrinking girl, rising to the emergency of the 
moment with a self-possession almost grand, 
gave the emotional juror a dignified and con- 
vincing answer," the Judge commented as his 
kind, brown eyes filled with tears at the thought 
of the painful scene; then went on: “You know. 
Colonel, this juror, Allen, is a first-rate man 
but impulsive and easily excited. You remem- 
ber that after he was convinced that Jackson 
was guilty he said, ‘I’d tear his heart out now,’ 
the words of which Woolford took an advant- 
age to carry the case from the jurisdiction of 
Tennessee." 

“And Miss Thomson is extremely modest and 
refined, too — I heard Bradley say that she was 
one of the most worthy women he’d ever known. 
Infamous, sir, the whole thing — but, at any rate, 
I’ll guarantee that we’ll have nothing to fear 
from the Supreme Court’s decision," Colonel 
Carleton again affirmed. 

“If it should decide to take up the case, good- 
bye to my hoped-for election to Congress, and 
the two winters in Washington that I’ve prom- 
ised Olivia," said the republican Judge, as the 
two men parted. 


66 


The Note of Discord 


CHAPTER X. 

Bruce Carleton was still detained in New Or- 
leans, looking after the lost goods of his firm, 
when his father, coming home from the factory 
at the noon hour met Sheriff Shipley on an in- 
coming car. The latter had fought through the 
Civil War as a captain in Colonel Carleton’s regi- 
ment, and these two had through the passing 
years been confidential friends. 

The old comrades, discussing the events of the 
past few days naturally fell into conversation 
about the trip of the negro lawyers to Washing- 
ton, where it was reported they had gone, in- 
structed by Attorney Wool ford, in order to make 
the claim before the Supreme Court that Ned 
Jackson's constitutional rights had been violated 
at his trial in February. 

‘‘Joe," said Colonel Carleton, addressing the 
sheriff in his accustomed familiar manner, 
“Hugh Bryan says there is a rumor among court 
house circles that it is possible the Supreme 
Court will order a stay of execution in Jackson's 
case. However," the Colonel added, “I've hardly 
given the matter a moment's consideration." 

“I've made every arrangement for Jackson's 
execution to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock," 
the sheriff returned, “and I've not yet received 
any news from Washington in reference to tfii$ 
prisoner." 


The Note of Discord 67 

'T assure you, sir/’ the Colonel remarked with 
emphasis, ‘‘there’ll be great surprise if this ver- 
dict of a state court is interfered with by the 
highest tribunal of the land.” 

“As I said a moment ago,” Shipley observed, 
“I’ve received no information in regard to this 
prisoner; but there can be no danger of tfiob 
violence until the fact will have become known 
that the hanging of Jackson has been postponed. 
If I receive such instructions from Washington, 
I will plan means by which the jail can best be 
defended in case of an attack to-morrow. You 
know, Colonel, that Ned Jackson is now a 
famous criminal. I don’t think it would be safe 
to attempt to carry him to the jail of any neigh- 
boring town. True, I might succeed in slipping 
him away; but I feel an extreme delicacy and a 
just reluctance in asking the sheriff of another 
county to take care of my obnoxious prisoner 
for mob violence would now threaten him in any 
town in the state. You know with what vigor 
I have protected Jackson since his crime was 
committed, and also the diligence I have used to 
take care of Jones, the assailant of little Minnie 
Flynn. My wife has become much disturbed 
over the continued strain of excitement to which 
the duties of my office have subjected me this 
winter,” Sheriff Shipley added, with a grave and 
wearied look on his usually genial face. 

“I know, Joe, that you have done your whole 
duty,” the warm-hearted Colonel said to the life- 
long friend at his side as at this point in the 
conversation the car stopped at the corner which 
was Shipley’s destination. 


68 The Note of Discord 

On account of the absence of Bruce Carleton 
from the office work of the factory, Eugene 
Freeman was detained by business matters long- 
er than usual on this afternoon in March. On 
leaving as he crossed the open space in which 
the building stood, he met two of the negro 
porters, Sam and Ben who, having completed 
their duties were departing for their homes. 
One of the negroes, Ben, called to his employer 
in a satisfied, congratulatory tone: ‘‘Oh, Mr. 
Freeman, I wants to show you somethin’ !” 

“Very well, Ben,” the young man of New 
England replied, turning towards the porter 
with a pleasant reserve of manner in his distin- 
guished bearing. 

Ben then showed Eugene Freeman a copy of 
a small newspaper which a negro publisher was 
accustomed at various intervals to supply a small 
circle of readers. Across the front page of the 
nauseous, little sheet, big lines announced: 

“NED JACKSON WILL NOT DIE TO- 
MORROW.” 

Then followed a flamboyant, braggadocio ac- 
count of how the Supreme Court had ordered 
Ned Jackson to be held as a federal prisoner; 
that he would later be taken to Washington 
where his trial would occur in October, when 
the decision would be made as to whether or not 
his constitutional rights had been violated. This 
report was based upon a telegram said to have 
been sent from Washington by the negro lawyers 
Hunter and Wallace. 


The Note of Discord 


69 


Freeman glanced over the paper with ill-con- 
cealed disgust as he noted the air of triumph 
on the faces of the negro porters. 

‘‘Ben/' he remarked in an icy tone to the negro 
who had spoken to him, “would you have shown 
young Mr. Carleton this paper?" 

“Naw sir," promptly responded Sam, the 
other porter, “Mr. Bruce Carleton wouldn’t ’low 
no nigger to show him nothin’ like that." 

Ben quickly spoke in an apologetic tone : 
“ ’Sense me, Mr. Freeman, ’sense me, I thought 
you folks from the north was alius glad to hear 
when one of our race gits out of trouble." But 
Freeman, with a gesture of contempt had turned 
sharply away and walked onward. 

As the car for the city was not yet due. Free- 
man went into the suburban drug store at Wil- 
ton for a cigar, and as he lit it on the porch he 
saw two young white men, who stood on the 
lower step reading a newspaper on the front 
page of which Freeman casually noted the same 
big head lines, “NED JACKSON WILL NOT 
DIE TO-MORROW," which he had just read 
in the paper given him by the negro porter. 
The two men were unknown to F reeman but 
glancing towards them he noted their low tones 
and earnest manner. 

The men he saw belonged to that class of 
citizens, rugged-natured, strong-willed, stout- 
hearted who loving their race and country, hold 
a regard for pure womanhood as the dearest 
principle of noble hearts. 

As Freeman, a close observer of men and con- 
ditions rode his way homeward, he at first 


70 


The Note of Discord 


thought of telephoning his friend, Judge Bryan, 
with regard to the report in the negro news- 
paper. Then attributing little importance to 
news from such a source, and with the New 
England instinct of minding his own business, 
he repaired to the Phoenix club where he found 
a letter from Bruce Carleton, informing him 
that having located the lost cargo he would reach 
Camden the following morning. 

Aleantime, little Bess Bryan being ill. Airs. 
Carleton had gone to her daughter’s home in 
Ridgway leaving the Colonel alone with Betty 
at the supper hour. The beautiful girl enjoyed 
her father’s presence with a mixture of deferen- 
tial love and good comradeship in her charming 
manner; but an engagement with Ross Gran- 
ville to a box party carried the care-free, happy 
girl among her circle of admiring friends. 

Colonel Carleton was alone in the library, en- 
joying a quiet evening with his books and maga- 
zines, when Hugh Bryan entered with a look of 
suppressed excitement on his face. 

''Good-bye to my election to Congress and 
Olivia’s two winters in Washington,” he said 
half gaily but with a touch of bitterness in his 
tone. 

"What’s the matter, Hugh?” his father-in-law 
asked with a sinking heart as he thought of his 
conversation with Bryan a few days since as to 
the expected decision of the Supreme Court in 
the Jackson case. 

"It is reported on the streets,” the Judge re- 
turned, "that instructions were sent from Wash- 
ington this afternoon to hold Jackson as a fed- 


The Note of Discord 71 

eral prisoner until further investigation into his 
case. Eugene Freeman told me a few minutes 
ago he saw news to that effect in the negro 
paper, ''The Pruning Knife'’ which, you know, 
is occasionally published in the event of anything 
of special importance affecting the negroes. You 
know, Colonel, that the jail is accessible 
from three streets, and to-night, between eight 
and nine o'clock while Sheriff Shipley was still 
at home after supper and the deputies, except 
the usual guard, were off duty, as was customary 
at this hour twenty-five men, coming from di- 
ferent directions, stole silently into the jail, over- 
came and disarmed the guard, and, securing the 
keys, took Jackson from his cell. They also 
overpowered the sheriff as he was returning to 
the jail. Then these men silently hurried Jack- 
son down the street four squares away and 
hanged him to Harrison county bridge. He got 
what was coming to him. Colonel. But I'm 
sorry for the way it came," the Judge added, 
finishing his story. 

"Yes, burning is too good for a hellish brute 
like him,” cried the Colonel, "but the law, Hugh 
— the law. 

Bryan came close to his father-in-law's side, 
and showing him two letters, said: "Colonel, 
I've been offered the certainty of the nomina- 
tion for Congress from this district, and I be- 
lieve that with your help and Olivia's I could 
have been elected; but now no republican can 
meet success this year in Harrison county. It is 
too hard," he added with an impatient shrug 
of his shoulders, "that as soon as the Republican 


72 


The Note of Discord 


Party begins to get on a fair basis in the south 
up comes the kinky-head and down the whole 
fabric goes. 

‘T was coming from a meeting of the Chamber 
of Commerce when I heard the news of the 
lynching. No sir, I can't possibly stay," Bryan 
added, in reply to the Colonel's request. ‘‘Bess 
is sick and I wouldn't have come in town at all 
but the mayor was anxious that I be present at 
the meeting to-night, and Olivia dislikes for me 
to neglect any public duty." 

Left alone. Colonel Carleton sat with a sad 
and anxious heart and gazed into the library fire. 
His mind ran lightly back to his home on the old 
plantation in south Georgia, when Joe Shipley, 
some years his junior, was the friend of his boy- 
hood days. He thought of the years of their 
early manhood when, with merriment in their 
hearts, they had enjoyed the companionship of 
the beautiful girls and gallant youths of their 
circle; of that day when, amid the tears and 
cheers of the little neighboring village, with the 
other boys in gray, they rode away together to 
fight for the land they loved. 

Well, too, he remembered in the stormy years 
which followed, his close comradeship with the 
brave, chivalrous Shipley. And, now he saw him 
striving with the strenuous duties of sheriff in 
this crime-infested town of Camden, his brown 
hair threaded with gray, his blue eyes still flash- 
ing the fire of youth. 

Then again the old Colonel dreamed as he re- 
called to mind the faithful slaves whom he had 
left in charge of the old plantation. He thought 


The Note of Discord 73 

of those sad days when a grievous wrong was 
done in his country, when the nation gave to an 
ignorant child-people the rights of citizenship, 
of which they had little comprehension. He 
thought of the new and alien race with hatred 
in its heart which through the passing years 
had come to take the place of his loyal slaves 
and faithful servants, and with a throb of anger 
he thought of the frequent occurrence of this 
fearful crime against women — a crime unknown 
among the negroes of another day in the south. 
He remembered with a shudder that sad incident 
in the life of his own loved Olivia, caused by 
the fright from a negro brute. He thought of 
the motherless girl, attacked by a fiend in the 
Orphanage that December night, within two 
squares of his own dear home; and of the latest 
victim, Virginia Thomson, one of that noble host 
of working women who, sharing the burdens of 
a livelihood with fathers and brothers, has gone 
from the sheltered life to the grind of the busi- 
ness world. 

With horror he thought of the dread fate 
she had met from the lust of the negro, Jackson 
— when returning home alone in the darkness — 
and his blood seethed hot with the same right- 
eous wrath which had sent the nervy men to the 
jail that night. 

But that night the law had been disregarded 
in Camden! And the old man bowed his head 
in deeper thought. 

As master of the old plantation, as commander 
of his brave regiment, as father of a well-trained 
family, as a just and generous employer of hum 


74 The Note of Discord 

dreds of men and women he held that respect 
of authority and the love of law and order were 
near to the love for God Himself. 

But as he pondered the memory came of an- 
other lesson which had been taught him in the 
days of his gallant youth — that on the virtue of 
its women must the fate of a nation rest; that 
resentment against an insult to that virtue is the 
test of a noble manhood. He thought of his 
honored wife whom for thirty-five years he had 
loved and cherished; of his bright Olivia, of her 
happy and useful life ; of the little granddaughter 
who had come to bless his declining years. He 
thought of his darling Betty who filled his life 
with joy. 

He thought of the homes of Camden, now 
guarded as warriors guard their citadels from 
the attack of an alien foe. 

And the heart of the old commander throbbed 
first with the love of his home and dear ones — 
''our women must be protected,’' he cried — "pro- 
tected at any cost !” 

Then he looked towards the library table, 
where his old family Bible lay, and versed in the 
lore of its pages he remembered that the same 
God who had said, "Obey thy rulers,” had also 
said, if a man by force despoil a maiden, "he 
must surely be put to death.” 


The Note of Discord 


75 


CHAPTER XI. 

‘‘God Bless You All, I Am Innocent were 
the startling words which stared in the faces of 
the people of Camden on the front sheet of the 
morning paper, the day following the lynching 
of Jackson. These were the headlines of a 
graphic and exaggerated report of the rapist's 
tragic death — the report that aroused the sudden 
and violent feeling of race hatred among the 
negroes which threatened Camden with a riot, 
that disturbing day following Jackson's death. 

It has been denied that these words were ever 
uttered. It is claimed that they originated in 
the fertile brain of the business editor of the 
morning paper — that newspaper whose incon- 
sistent theories and contradictory opinions have 
made it an anomaly in southern journalism. 

More than a thousand negro men failed to 
report for duty at the shops and foundries that 
morning. All was quiet on the surface but the 
sullen, defiant faces and low mutterings of dis- 
content showed the state of suppressed excite- 
ment and indignation among this turbulent race, 
so easily incited to wrong-doing by those of 
higher intelligence. 

However, the white men of Camden were 
easily equal to the emergency which threatened, 
and prepared for a defense of the town against 


76 The Note of Discord 

any attempted riot. The jails, the workhouses 
and police headquarters were guarded by extra 
forces of men. 

The word was quietly passed around that men 
with families must stay by their own firesides; 
while the young men and those who had no 
homes to protect would go to the armory that 
night. 

Bruce Carleton with shoulders squared and 
head poised high walked the streets of Camden 
with a soldierly air and welcomed the coming 
danger. 

Judge Bryan, in the unguarded suburb, in- 
vited Mrs. Murray, his little Ohio neighbor — in 
her husband’s and daughter’s absence — to share 
the protection which he would give his wife and 
children in his own sweet home, always the 
centre of his adoring heart. 

As night approached, Colonel Carleton walked 
the floor of his spacious hall with restless steps 
and longed for the days that were no more. The 
women must be protected and Bruce must go 
with the young men to the armory that night. 
The father thanked God for the noble son whom 
he was not ashamed to have follow in his own 
footsteps. But while he thanked God for His 
goodness the old Colonel still paced the hall with 
restless strides and longed for the days that 
were gone. 

But down town, in his bachelor quarters, Eu- 
gene Freeman sat, lost in deepest thought. He 
had been kindly welcomed to Camden where so 
many of his own section had come to make their 
\ 


The Note of Discord 77 

homes, and he liked well his warm-hearted 
southern friends. 

But the laws of heredity and training are 
rooted deep in the human heart, and the blood 
of abolitionist fathers flowed in this young man’s 
veins ; and, as he deliberated, he noted with keen 
scrutiny the conditions here as he had seen them 
with the eye of an experienced man of the 
world. 

He saw the negroes of Camden enjoying the 
same public rights and comforts as their white 
neighbors — with the exception of the ever- for- 
bidden right of social equality. He saw their 
fine churches built with aid from the white 
man’s pocket; he saw their splendid schools 
maintained by the white man’s taxes. The same 
comforts awaited them in the hospitals and pub- 
lic institutions. He saw good wages paid for 
unwilling and incompetent service; and he had 
often wondered at the easy indulgence with 
which the southern man was accustomed to 
regard the negro’s lapse of business duty. He 
saw the alleys and the byways of Camden crowd- 
ed with hordes of ignorant, vicious negroes, and 
fearful crimes committed against defenseless 
women. 

He knew now what was meant by the white 
man’s burden, and his just nature acknowledged 
the wrongs of a long-suffering, magnanimous 
people. 

He thought of his friends, of the Carleton 
family; of the stately home which had said to 
him, ‘‘You are welcome within my portals,” 
when far from his own home and kindred. He 


78 


The Note of Discord 


thought of the gentle, high-bred mother, her 
love of humanity throbbing with every pulse- 
beat; of the gracious, warm-hearted woman, the 
wife of whom his friend, Hugh Bryan, was so 
fond and proud. He thought of the beautiful 
Betty, the girl of the care- free heart and noble 
soul, whom he hoped — in spite of the odds 
against him — he might yet call his own, and he 
knew why womanhood had evermore been the 
strongest power of this land of his adoption. 

His New England conscience was awakened, 
his keen perception saw the truth as it lay before 
him, and this man, with the brave and earnest 
soul took his gun in his hand and walked side 
by side with Bruce Carleton to the armory that 
night. 


The Note of Discord 


79 


CHAPTER XII. 

But no violence disturbed the peace of Cam- 
den that memorable night. Next day telegrams 
from the Federal authorities and reported ac- 
counts of the intended action of the government 
at Washington roused a sentiment of confidence 
and triumphant expectation among the negroes. 

The funeral of Jackson was conducted from 
the leading negro church with prayers and song 
and high praise of the dead man’s character. 
In their natural credulity and the strong un- 
reason of their illogical minds, the negroes 
saw in the protest of the Federal authorities 
ap^ainst the action of the so-called mob a cham- 
pionship of their own race in opposition to the 
white people. 

During the services on the occasion of Jack- 
son’s funeral an exultant leader cried out, amid 
noisy amens, “Praise the Lord, brother,* the 
President is on the way to us now.” Thousands 
of well-dressed negro men and women thronged 
the church and adjoining streets to pay their 
respects to the memory of the dead rapist, a 
negro almost unknown, except in the dives and 
slums of Camden. 

A long procession of the best turnouts of the 
city livery establishments carried eager hundreds 

*An incident which occurred on the occasion of the 
fyneral of a negro rapist in Chattanooga, Tenn., March 
21st, 1906. 


8o The Note of Discord 

in an almost triumphal march, three miles down 
the main residence street, past the Carleton home 
to the negro cemetery, in the ridges east of the 
city limits. 

From every quarter came reports of dissatis- 
faction and rebellion on the part of the negro 
labor in the shops, foundries, and homes of Cam- 
den. 

At one place a negro man heard his white 
fellow-workmen discussing the rapist’s crime. 

* With the grovelling instinct of the lowest 
of his race he muttered: 'T don’t blame Jack- 
son a bit. I’d do the same thing myself any 
time, if I had the nerve to do it.” With threats 
of dire vengeance if he dared repeat these words, 
the white workmen seized the offending negro, 
hurried him to the nearest railway station and 
paid his fare to a distant point with a stern com- 
mand that- he should never return to Camden. 

Meantime in the Carleton home dissatisfac- 
tion, even mutiny, reigned for the first time in 
the memory of its placid mistress. The morning 
following Jackson’s death as Bruce was passing 
through a hall situated in the rear of the house 
near the kitchen he saw the housemaid, Fannie, 
with Jennie, the laundress, Dick and Eliza 
around her, lift her ha*nds high and her eyes 
flash hatred as she said in blasphemous tones : 

* ''Maybe God Almighty knows best but if I 
had my way He’d strike every one of the white 
folks dead at one time.” 

*These two incidents occurred in Chattanooga, Tenn., 
March 20th, 1906, the morning following the lynching of 
a negro rapist. 


The Note of Discord 8i 

Bruce walked swiftly to the sitting-room to his 
mother's side. His face was white with anger 
and his hands clenched in indignation. He told 
her of the scene, then added: “Mother, dismiss 
that woman this moment. She has been well fed, 
well paid and well treated here. You are too 
good to her, and Betty treats her almost too 
kindly. I only wish that Dick had said these 
words, that I might thrash him within an inch 
of his life!" the young man exclaimed as the 
wTath of his forefathers rose in his blood. The 
calm and dignified mistress lost no time in obey- 
ing her son's request and in a few moments the 
venomous Fannie had gone from the service of 
the Carleton home. 

At the breakfast table Bruce spoke to his 
father of Eugene Freeman's presence at the 
armory the night before. Colonel Carleton's 
face grew radiant as he said: “A man, sir — a 
man who, seeing the right, knows it, and know- 
ing the right, does it. Why, Harry Shipley 
himself could have done no better," added the 
Colonel with a lingering fondness in his tone, 
for the son of his old comrade was his prime 
favorite among his daughter's suitors. 

Coquettish Betty heard with a coy smile of 
pleasure her father's praise of the manly Free- 
man. who had loved her for three years in pa- 
tience and sincerity. She knew whose influence 
had stirred the Puritan conscience and sent the 
noble son of New England to the armory with 
Bruce. 

When his sister had left the room, Bruce re- 
marked: 'T promised Olivia not to speak un- 


82 The Note of Discord 

kindly of Granville again, in Betty^s presence. 
He was at the armory last night, but I heard 
him complaining of Sheriff Shipley and de- 
nouncing Jackson’s lynching 'Why did you 
come here?’ I asked him. 'Because it was ex- 
pected that I should come with the rest of the 
boys,’ he answered. He was the only man there 
who did not show a keen interest in every event 
that occurred last night. What’s tlie matter with 
Granville, father?” Bruce inquired in a tone of 
vexation. 

"Son, Granville’s family are in the political 
ring that is opposing Shipley’s nomination for 
sheriff, which you know occurs in ten days,” the 
father replied, as the two men left the table. 

As the week passed, the excitement among 
the negroes over Jackson’s death seemed to in- 
crease. Like many others, Mrs. Carleton’s pa- 
tience was taxed to control the once tractable 
servants in her employ. 

From one source, however, there came an ex- 
pression of sentiment, cheering to these good 
people of the Carleton home to whom the ne- 
groes of their acquaintance owed so many debts 
of kindness. 

Willis Snow had years before been a stable boy 
in the Carleton service. Bruce, seeing the ne- 
gro’s worth, had secured him a position in one 
of the big foundries of Camden. Year by year, 
with punctuality, faithfulness and respectful de- 
meanor, had this dark-skinned son of toil gone, 
in and out, at his work at the big foundry, win- 
ning the trust of his employers and the secret 
envy of those of his own race who, less worthy. 


The Note of Discord 


83 


worked by his side. Only once had he lost time 
in years of patient labor, when he lay sick with 
a long siege of fever, and in that hour of dis- 
tress many a needed dollar had found its way 
to his humble home from Bruce Carleton's 
pocket. 

Sunday afternoon following Jackson’s death 
this young negro appeared on the kitchen porch 
of the Carleton home with the request that he 
might speak to Mr. Bruce. Neatly dressed in 
his ‘'Sunday clo’es,” sinewy, straight, and strong, 
he stood the type of the most worthy of his 
race. 

“Mr. Bruce,” * he said, “I wants to ask you 
somethin’.” 

“All right. How can I help you, Willis?” in- 
quired the genial Bruce as he looked in kindly 
confidence on the pleasant brown face before 
him. 

“It’s about Ned Jackson’s lynchin’,” Willis re- 
plied. “The niggers at the shop was talkin’ yis- 
tiddy ’bout it; an’ I told ’em that that young 
lady hadn’t never done Jackson no harm, and 
if he was guilty I didn’t blame the white men 
a bit. Then Mr. Bruce, they tried to whup 
me, and called me ‘a white folks’ nigger.’ ” 

Bruce explained to the honest negro in simple, 
concise language the details of Jackson’s crime 
and trial. 

“Thank’ee, Mr. Bruce,” said Willis. “I’ll tell 
them niggers in the mornin’ that Mr. Bruce 

*A conversation which occurred between a worthy ne- 
gro man and a prominent citizen a few days following 
the lynching of a negro rapist in March, 1906. 


84 


The Note of Discord 


Carleton says Ned Jackson's guilty — an' I don't 
take back nuthin' — an' I don't blame the white 
men a bit." Then he went down the back steps 
of the Carleton home with a resolute air which 
boded ill for the one who would dare dispute 
him. 


The Note of Discord 


85 


CHAPTER XIII. 

The democratic nomination for the office of 
sheriff had been set for March 29th, ten days 
after Jackson’s death. It was a three-cornered 
fight since two other popular men were also 
candidates, and in behalf of these an attempt 
was made to prejudice the public against 
Sheriff Shipley on account of the rapist’s lynch- 
ing. No definite news concerning the action of 
the Federal Government had been received but 
the negroes still bore themselves with an air of 
confidence and triumph as they passed among 
the white citizens of Camden. 

One bright spring morning Betty, coming in 
from a shopping tour found Olivia at her 
father’s home for the day and her brother pres- 
ent at the dinner hour. When the young girl 
entered the room her face wore a comical look 
of merriment mingled with indignation as she 
said: ‘'Bruce, what do you think? As I was 
crossing Duncan street, on the way to town, I 
passed a crowd of little darkies on the sidewalk, 
none of them more than twelve years old.* 
When I went by, the largest one of them looked 
at me with an insolent air and said, ‘Anyhow, 
they are goin’ to hang Sheriff Shipley.’ ” 


*An incident in the life of one of the writer’s family. 


86 The Note of Discord 

‘The little imp of Satan!’’ Bruce cried with 
a flash of anger which quickly changed to a 
laugh at the sight of Betty’s face. ‘T wish I 
could get my hands on the wretch who said 
such words to that little darkey — ‘hang Sheriff 
Shipley’ — the devil!” 

“Yes,” flashed Olivia, “they’ll hang him all 
right — the true men of Harrison county will 
tie him with blue ribbons to the sheriff’s desk.” 

“Quite right, Olivia,” said Bruce to his 
thoughtful, earnest sister. “You see the neces- 
sity of the re-nomination and reelection of Cap- 
tain Shipley to the sheriff’s office this year. The 
negroes are claiming that Shipley assisted at 
Jackson’s lynching. No amount of facts was 
ever able to combat a negro’s opinion about a 
supposed wrong done one of their race by the 
white folks. They think the captain’s reelection 
means mob law for a like offence, and his de- 
feat, in their minds, would signify the sheriff’s 
connection with the mob, even the condoning of 
Jackson’s crime.” 

“I have already told Hugh that if the white 
republicans of Harrison county would do their 
duty by the women of this county, they would 
give Captain Shipley a clear path to the sheriff’s 
office,” Olivia said in emphatic tones. 

“That’s too strong, sister,” her brother re- 
plied. “You can’t destroy every law of political 
ethics even to elect Sheriff Shipley. Hugh 
Bryan is the broadest-minded republican and the 
best-natured man in Harrison county or he 
would have resented such a remark.” 

“I want Captain Shipley to win as much 


The Note of Discord 


87 


you do, Olivia,’’ Betty interposed. ''He’s the 
victim of injustice; he’s one of our best friends 
in Camden, and he’s Harry Shipley’s father — 
but, if we were all fire-eaters like you and Bruce, 
the world would soon be consumed.” 

“Fd rather be a fire-eater than a milk-sop, like 
some of our good democrats of Harrison coun- 
ty,” was the brother’s quick return as he gave 
Betty a genial smile, a tribute to her more gentle 
nature. 

With the feeling of resentment that now pre- 
vailed among the negroes in Camden, the ser- 
vant question became each day more trying. 
Mrs. Carleton, patiently bearing the new situa- 
tion, endeavored to control it with renewed 
efforts of dignity and kindness combined; but 
in vain ! Insolence, defiance, careless, indifferent 
service were her rewards. Jennie, the laundress, 
had already sent an impudent message by a flip- 
pant girl of fifteen : * “Maw says yer can git 
yer another wash-lady nex’ Monday. She don’t 
’tend to work no more fer de white folks dis 
year. Maw says dat de colored ladies say dey’s 
goin’ to make de white women sv/eat dis sum- 
mer.” 

The poison of this spirit had become instilled 
into those less defiant, and soon the lazy Dick and 
once good-natured Eliza followed the unworthy 
Fannie and Jennie out of the Carleton service. 
Only Ellen with the wisdom of the old-time 
darkey still guarded her place in the Carleton 
household from the designs of all newcomers. 

^Message sent one of the writer’s friends by a negro 
laundress, June, 1906. 


88 


The Note of Discord 


The patient mistress needed all her forbear- 
ance and ability to guide her through this un- 
usual crisis in the history of her home-making. 

One of the many steam laundries of Camden 
did Jennie’s work; Bruce’s horse and the car- 
riage team were sent to Blunt’s stable, where 
a master spirit, by fear and judicious kindness, 
dominated the negro help of his establishment. 
Mrs. Carleton applied herself to the most neces- 
sary duties of the handsome home, assisted by 
dainty Betty who essayed to do her share. But 
the daily tasks seemed burdensome for the young 
girl’s delicate strength, and as she was wearily 
striving to sweep the upper hall in the heat of an 
early spring morning, old Ellen, with arms 
akimbo, appeared on the back-stairs landing. 
‘'Gimme dat broom, chile,” she commanded in a 
tone of authority. “ ’Tain’t Miss Betty Carle- 
ton’s place to sweep floors. It’s her place to have 
a good time! Course, the day’ll come, honey, 
when you’ll learn all right, like your maw and 
Mis’ ’Livia. Mis’ ’Livia done jes’ like you 
when she was a young lady, and, Lawdy! now 
she’s the smartest ’oman I ever seen in a house, 
’cept it’s ole miss herself,” said the loyal old 
cook, using her favorite terms in speaking of 
Mrs. Carleton. 

“Then,” she continued, “I ’spects to do all de 
work in dis house myself, ’til the niggers gits out 
of the fit dey’re in. Your maw won’t tell me to 
do it, but I knows I’ll not lose nothin’ by it. 
Nobody never struck a extry lick for her yit dat 
dey didn’t get der pay. Run on, honey, to where 
you b’long,” she added, and taking the broom 


The Note of Discord 89 

from Betty^s willing hands, she pointed to the 
young girl’s dainty room at the other end of the 
hall. 

Then Betty, smiling and bowing her thanks, 
danced merrily back to her lounging place and 
ate Harry Shipley’s bon-bons while she read 
Freeman’s book and looked on Granville’s 
flowers. 

So did Betty smile her way through life and 
dance into the hearts of loving friends about her 

But that afternoon when old Ellen, in her little 
house in the alley, opened the big basket she had 
brought from the Carleton home, she found 
tucked away in one corner a bag of candy for 
her little grandchildren and a big bow of new 
ribbon for her youngest daughter ‘‘Dat’s jes^ 
like Miss Betty. Didn’t I tell you chillun she’s 
the bes’ young lady in Camden?” the old cook 
said, as she put the coveted candy into the little 
dark hands eagerly stretched to receive it. 

“Butterfly Betty,” they called her — but later 
in the afternoon while she was gaily entertain- 
ing a party of young men friends in the recep- 
tion hall, little Bob Bryan came in with a deep 
gash on his forehead which he had received on 
the baseball grounds as captain of the “Little 
Stars.” When strong-armed Ellen screamed in 
dismay and Mrs. Carleton herself grew faint 
with a constitutional weakness, it was Betty who 
washed the blood from the flowing wound while 
one of the young men telephoned for medical 
aid. It was Betty who held the hands of the 
frightened boy and cheered him with tender 
words while the surgeon sewed the gaping cut 


90 The Note of Discord 

And, a few days later, this little, brave, bad Bob 
came home with a broken arm from the forbid- 
den game of football. Judge Bryan was out of 
town and Olivia ill with one of her neuralgic 
attacks. It was Betty who cheerfully cancelled 
an engagement with Harry Shipley for a dance 
at the Mountain Inn and sat all night with the 
sleepless boy, beguiling the weary hours with 
incidents of her own merry childhood and re- 
counted again the war stories she had heard 
at her father's knee. It is this gay irresponsi- 
bility of the southern girl — ^then her brave meet- 
ing of an emergency — that make her such a 
charming paradox. 


The Note of Discord 


91 


CHAPTER XIV. 

The threercornered fight for the democratic 
nomination for sheriff was waged with eager 
interest, even bitterness, towards its close. 
Through the country districts, men whose homes 
lay far apart in obscure, unsafe locations as a 
rule opposed Shipley's nomination because he 
had so diligently protected Ned Jackson by 
taking him to Bainesville when it was feared 
that a mob might vent its fury upon the obnox- 
ious prisoner before his trial. 

Again, one of the candidates was a leader 
among the laboring element and a man to whom 
many of the men of the county were indebted 
for past favors. 

But the thoughtful citizens, seeing the reasons 
which underlay the necessity for Sheriff Ship- 
ley's election, redoubled their efforts and on 
March 29th, near midnight, Bruce Carleton tele- 
phoned Olivia that Captain Shipley had been 
nominated for sheriff of Harrison county. 

The case of Ned Jones, the assailant of Minnie 
Flynn, had already been tried and this would-be 
rapist had been sentenced to fourteen years in 
the penitentiary. The cases of the treacherous 
cook and housemaid at the Orphanage were later 
dismissed, owing to the sudden death of Detec- 
tive Harvey, the main witness for the prosecu- 
tion. 


92 


The Note of Discord 


Then came the glad news from Washington 
that the Federal authorities would not interfere 
with the decision of a court of Tennessee. Once 
more quiet was restored in Camden and the dis- 
turbed feeling between white and colored was 
partially calmed. 

‘‘Bruce/' said Olivia to her brother, in one of 
their usual confidential chats, “Hugh told me he 
h^rd Ross Granville saying that he intends to 
vote against Sheriff Shipley in the coming Au- 
gust election. Now; why do you suppose he 
objects to the Captain?" 

“You can search me for a reason and find 
none, sister, why any sane man in the south can 
vote against him," Bruce replied. 

“Hugh says Captain Shipley certainly knew 
nothing about the purpose of the nervy men — 
Fll never call them a mob — to enter the jail and 
lynch Jackson that night. I think he ought not 
to be blamed for what he was powerless to 
prevent." 

“We all know Shipley was ignorant of the 
intention of those men, but — by George, if he 
had known it, Fd vote for him just the same," 
young Carleton exclaimed in enthusiasm. 

“Well," concluded Olivia, “I like to see justice 
done in all things. These accusations against 
our sheriff will only make the women champion 
his cause more earnestly. A woman will stand 
by a man of her family or community when she 
believes he has been unfairly treated." 

The eaily southern spring was advancing, 
and Mrs. Bryan was busy with many additional 
household tasks of the coming season. A com- 


The Note of Discord 93 

petent seamstress had, for years, assisted in the 
family sewing — a negress with a strain of white 
blood — who, by honesty, industry and respectful 
manner, had won the confidence of the best 
white women in the city. Caroline Taylor was 
always eager to begin her work at the home of 
the Judge’s wife whom she held as her ideal of 
all that was good and true in womankind. 

Prompted by a yearning for the views of those 
beyond her station and with the liberty of a 
long acquaintance, Caroline would ask informa- 
tion of Mrs. Bryan about the current topics that 
concerned Camden. Maintaining that delicate 
exclusiveness of inequality that the high-bred 
southern woman shows in the presence of the 
negro, Olivia would gratify the seamstress’ re- 
spectful wish for knowledge. Being keenly in- 
terested in the notorious Jackson case, Caroline 
requested her broad-minded employer to explain 
the cause of the recent trouble. Olivia readily 
complied, giving a concise, detailed statement of 
the facts as she understood them. But material 
effects are what the negro mind can grasp, and 
Caroline replied in tones of earnest conviction,* 
‘‘The white people of the north can’t do our 
race no worse harm than to take the part of a 
‘nigger’ like Ned Jackson.” 

The colored seamstress always ate her dinner 
with the cook at the servants’ table in the cool 
alcove of Mrs. Bryan’s well-appointed kitchen. 
One day, at the noon hour, Olivia, ever busy, 
went to the pantry in order to prepare a dainty 
dessert, one of her husband’s favorite dishes, 


*A true incident. 


94 The Note of Discord 

for the evening meal. Standing there at work 
she heard the cook and the seamstress talking, 
but paid no heed until suddenly she caught the 
name of Betty Carleton on the lips of the ser- 
vants. 

^'Yes,’' the seamstress was saying, ‘‘Mis' Betty 
Carleton favors ole mistis' an^ Mis' 'Livia an' 
Mr. Bruce is more like the Colonel. I've knowed 
Mis' 'Livia Carleton ever since she was a school- 
girl. I he'ped make her weddin' clo'es when 
she married Jedge Bryan. No finer white lady 
ever lived 'cept it’s her maw and Miss Betty. 
She'll pay you well and praise you high if you 
do right, but if you try to impose on her and 
treat her wrong, you'll never get another lick 
of her work and what she'll say 'll be a-plenty." 

“I know that," the cook replied. “Mis' Bry- 
an's as good a white 'oman as I ever worked 
fer, and her sister. Mis' Betty, is sho' a sweet 
young lady. Old Ellen says she 'specs Mis' 
Betty'll be marrin' fo' long herself." 

“Which one of her beaux did Ellen say she's 
goin' to marry?" Caroline eagerly inquired. 

“Mr. Ross Granville, that rich young white 
man what rides round here in his autymobile 
so grand," was the cook's reply. 

“Lawd have pity, woman," the seamstress ex- 
claimed in astonishment, “Mis' Betty Carleton 
wouldn't have him. That young white man 
ain't no' count." 

“What do you mean, Mis' Taylor?" the cook 
inquired eagerly. 

“Ask that good-lookin' yeller girl that lives 
back of me on Columbus street, and she can 


The Note of Discord 95 

tell you more about Mr. Ross Granville than I 
can/’ Caroline answered in sarcastic tones, then 
refused to speak further of the matter in spite 
of her friend’s entreaties. 

Olivia stood, overcome with shame and amaze- 
ment at the accidental overhearing of this con- 
versation. Throughout the afternoon she en- 
deavored to forget the occurrence; but from 
twenty years’ acquaintance with Caroline Taylor 
she knew there was no malice in her heart to- 
wards any of the white race. She believed that 
no love of vulgar gossip but rather a kindly 
interest had caused her to divulge this secret 
in an unguarded moment of companionship with 
one of her own race. 

The family believed Granville to be Betty’s 
favorite suitor, but none of them knew to what 
extent her affections were entangled ; and Olivia, 
debating between a possible injustice to the 
young man in question and the duty she owed 
her sister, slept with a troubled heart that night. 

Silent to the other members of the family, she 
sought an opportunity when alone in her 
brother’s presence to mention the ever-sore sub- 
ject of Ross Granville’s opposition to Sheriff 
Shipley’s reelection. The following Sunday after- 
noon, while Bruce was visiting at her home, she 
inquired of him: 

''Have you heard yet why Mr. Granville op- 
poses Captain Shipley’s election?” 

"He claims on the score of Jackson’s lynching; 
but I have always felt that there was an inner 
reason/’ the young man answered. 


9.6 The Note of Dw:ord 

‘‘Could it be a sentimental motive?’^ Olivia 
ventured, in a meaning tone, with eyes averted. 

“Tell me what you mean,” asked Bruce eager- 
ly, his keen glance searching his sister’s face. 

With downcast eyes, ashamed to meet the 
frank, manly gaze of her brother, she told him 
of her aroused suspicions concerning Granville’s 
morals. “I wouldn’t be surprised at the truth 
of any report about that fellow, Olivia. I know 
now how a woman feels when she can say ‘I 
told you so;’ but such a serious charge must 
first be proven. No man I know would care to 
be responsible for the proofs of such infamy. 
Besides, I dare not mention this subject to one 
of Granville’s friends on account of Betty’s feel- 
ing for him.” 

“Ah !” Olivia replied, “well do we women 
know about that brotherhood among men of the 
world which makes them shield each other from 
the exposure and consequences of their favorite 
sins.” 

“Not all men, sister ; a fellow must be counted 
innocent until he is found guilty,” young Carle- 
ton commented with an air of protest. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean our men, Bruce — not you 
nor father nor Hugh,” returned Olivia with a 
woman’s loyalty to her own. 

“I’m at a loss what to do,” the brother said. 
“Unless we can prove our statements, Betty’ll 
be furious and I don’t know any one I could 
approach on the subject,” and a look of misery 
and helplessness came over his noble face. 

But Olivia drew her friends from all classes. 
Years before, there had lived on a humble street 


The Note of Discord 97 

of Ridgway a young working man, burdened 
with the tender care of an invalid wife; and 
Mrs. Bryan, in friendship, not in charity, had 
interested herself in the case of the suffering 
one. 

The physician of the Carleton and Bryan 
homes was a surgeon of noted skill who spent 
his life in doing good for others. Through 
Olivia's interest this surgeon had, at a nominal 
cost to the husband, transformed the invalid into 
a strong and happy woman. 

The young workman was now a patrolman on 
the police force of Camden. This patrolman — as 
big of heart as body — had ever sought a way in 
which to express his gratitude. The little daugh- 
ter who had come to Wess his home he had named 
Olivia Carleton. When Judge Bryan was a 
candidate for office on the republican ticket, the 
big patrolman, though holding a democratic job, 
had put a vote in the ballot box for Mrs. Bryan's 
husband. 

Betty, too, knew the big patrolman and re- 
membered well his appreciation when at her 
sister’s bidding she had gone, as a little girl, to 
carry fruits and flowers to his convalescent 
wife. She ranked him first among her humbler 
friends and knew that his truth and honor were 
as bright as the star which gleamed on his manly 
breast. 

So, with a message from Olivia, concerning 
the delicate subject of Granville's morals, Bruce 
requested aid of the big patrolman whose beat 
included Columbus street. 

didn't have to look very far, Mr. Carleton, 


98 


The Note of Discord 


for the truth of what you suspected/’ reported 
this sincere friend in a reluctant voice; ''but 
don’t tell your little sister I knew anything about 
this, unless there’s no other way,” he added to the 
distressed brother. 

Bruce and Olivia confided this trouble to their 
mother who with tender words told Betty of 
the degraded sin of which her favorite suitor 
was guilty. Then, a Betty whom they had never 
known flashed defiance from the dark eyes of the 
beautiful girl. "I’ll never believe one word 
against him,” she cried angrily. "I know w^hat’s 
the matter with you, Bruce Carleton — you and 
Olivia want me to marry your friend Freeman 
and father likes Harry best because he’s Captain 
Shipley’s son,” she sobbed, with the unreason of 
the wounded feminine heart; and meeting these 
two men that day, the indignant girl treated them 
with a cold disdain that sent the perplexed lovers 
away, wondering at the cause of her offense. 

"We’ve played the deuce now, Olivia,” admit- 
ted Bruce with a crestfallen air. "Your friend on 
the police force is our only hope. Good for your 
kind heart, sister, which gives you friends in 
every circle.” 

"Yes, Mr. Carleton,” the big patrolman said, 
when approached the second time. "Tell Miss 
Betty it was me who told you about Mr. Gran- 
ville. I’d rather lose her friendship than cause 
her trouble later.” 

"She’ll believe me,” he added, with a touch of 
pride. 

The belief of the patrolman’s statements 
forced upon her, Betty gave Granville a curt 


The Note of Discord 99 

dismissal with no explanation. She bore herself 
with dignity through this first trial of her young 
life, sometimes in tearful silence, again with an 
outburst of unnatural gaiety. A shadow fell 
upon the happy home; Colonel Carleton grew 
grim and silent; Bruce raged in secret over his 
sister’s grief and the infamy of her lover; while 
the gentle mother took this sorrow where she 
took all others, to the Comforter on High. Yet, 
as her mother prayed, Olivia planned, and soon 
arranged for Betty to accompany a party of her 
own friends at Ridgway on a long journey to 
the west, since this bright woman knew the 
charms of travel to be one of the best panaceas 
for a disturbed mind. 

Betty welcomed the prospect of the change 
that would relieve the embarrassment of meeting 
Ross Granville among their circle of friends; 
but she did not grieve with a true heart-sorrow. 
It was rather the natural regret of a pure woman 
that one for whom she had entertained a tender 
feeling and whom she had endowed with all 
manly graces, should have been guilty of this 
treachery to his manhood and to his race. It was 
the wounded pride of a noble nature that her 
favorite suitor, while guilty of this base treach- 
ery, by his addresses, should have insulted her 
own innocence and purity. 


lOO 


The Note of Discord 


CHAPTER XV. 

''Betty,” said Olivia, one hot, humid, morning, 
"before you go west, I want you to help mother 
take care of Bess and Bob, while I go over the 
Ridge for a week's visit to Mrs. Milton. I need 
the rest-cure since finishing my spring cleaning 
and sewing, and that little woman, in her peace- 
ful home, restores my weary nerves as nothing 
else can do.” 

"You're a brave soldier,” was her sister's re- 
sponse ; "but I see that you believe in the proverb 
that 


'He who fights and runs away 
May live to fight another day.' 

Certainly, I'll take care of the children and be 
glad to have the little darlings with us. Mother 
says Hugh is the best-natured man on earth, not 
to complain when you dash away from home at 
a moment's notice. True, you don't go very far 
nor stay long, unless he's with you; and you 
always have a good reason for going,” Betty 
said as an after- thought. 

"Oh, don't worry about Hugh Bryan,” 
the fond wife replied. "He's like most of his 
sex that don't care for women who live in a 
monotone. Then, no matter how much he loves 


The Note of Discord 


lOI 


me, he wants a touch of bachelor freedom now 
and then. Still, Hugh will tell you that he's de- 
voted to his family and so he is; but Tve heard 
about some of the good times he has, when I go 
on these little trips — so I thought I would give 
him another opportunity for pleasure, she fin- 
ished with a laugh. 

During Judge Bryan's canvass for office, four 
years before, Olivia had accompanied him on 
many of his long drives through the country. 
It was then that she had met l3an Milton and 
his wife who had come south from New Hamp- 
shire fifteen years before. Milton had been a 
non-commissioned officer in the Federal Army. 
He had fought at Chickamauga, being one of 
those daring heroes who, on that memorable day 
at Historic Ridge, risked the shame of a military 
death that the tide of battle might be turned for 
the Union forces. 

The health of his wife failing in the rigorous 
climate of New England, he had come south, 
naturally choosing the location of his triumphs 
in the Civil War. This husband and wife had 
brought with them the customs and manners of 
their own section. This provident farmer had 
arranged every possible comfort and convenience 
to lighten the work of the house; and Mrs. Mil- 
ton performed, unassisted, the household duties. 
Olivia Bryan enjoyed well the pleasant compan- 
ionship she found in this simple, artistic home 
of New England in the south. 

During that dreadful year of the past, after 
an illness in which her life had been despaired 
of, Hugh Bryan took his wife to visit his 


102 


The Note of Discord 


mother’s relatives, residing in a little village in 
the vicinity of Boston; and here Olivia’s adapta- 
bility and genial spirit soon found the responsive 
undercurrent which flows beneath the chilly sur- 
face of the New England nature. 

“It’s a lovely character, mother, when you 
come to know it,” she had told Mrs. Carleton on 
her return. “After the ice of first acquaintance- 
ship is broken, you find a heart as warm as a 
southern summer day.” 

On this morning, while conversing with Betty, 
Olivia remarked: “When I go to see Mrs. Mil- 
ton, I imagine I am again visiting Hugh’s aunt in 
the north. There’s the same darkened parlor 
with the bright-flowered Brussels carpet ; the 
family portraits in crayon ; the old-fashioned 
hair-cloth furniture and the stately organ, its 
high back almost reaching the ceiling. And 
there is the cosy sitting-room, with its great bay 
window filled with rare and beautiful house 
plants, facing the Ridge. You see the rugs on 
the painted floor, the chintz-covered lounge, the 
latest magazines on the centre-table — and a 
grandfather’s clock — the genuine thing, Betty — 
which one of Mrs. Milton’s forefathers brought 
from Scotland. Dan Milton once refused five 
hundred dollars for that old clock, in Boston, 
which shows that the pride of ancestry is greater 
even than the love of gain in the New England 
heart. Then, there’s the big wood-stove in the 
sitting-room, and a register in the ceiling, warm- 
ing the bedroom above — trust these people of 
New England to save even a breath of warm 
air,” she added, half merrily. 


The Note of Discord 103 

‘'The guest-room is a perfectly lovely place, 
which, though furnished with the cheapest mate- 
rials, has been made a bower of beauty by the 
deft hands of this ingenious housewife,’^ Olivia 
continued to the interested Betty, who was fond 
of hearing her enthuse over the graces of her 
friends. ‘‘There’s a matting, blue, to match the 
walls; the white-painted furniture, Swiss cur- 
tains tied back by dainty blue ribbons, and a 
sweet scent of lavender among the snowy bed 
linen. The grand oak trees, instead of elms, out- 
side, are all that makes me remember that this 
is a farm-house in the south, instead of Hugh’s 
aunt’s home.” 

But Mrs. Milton’s kitchen was the delight of 
Olivia’s beauty-loving heart. She had her own 
kitchen well appointed and gave it close scru- 
tiny — but a negro servant must hold sway there. 

In the farm-house, Dan Milton had set with 
his own hands the capacious sink and painted the 
floor in a pretty pattern of squares. Here, too, 
was the shining cook-stove, the little dining-table, 
with its bowl of fragrant roses. This table was 
now moved into the sitting-room and covered 
with spotless damask and fine old china, in honor 
of the coming of the Judge’s wife who, filled 
with a spirit of friendliness and appreciation, 
sat with these good people and ate a piece of 
pie for breakfast. This gracious guest was much 
loved and welcomed by the sweet- faced house- 
wife, who, going back and forth with nimble 
step and dextrous touch, combined, with a skill 
inherited from generations past, the details of 
her home-making into one harmonious whole. 


104 The Note of Discord 

On the day after Olivia’s coming, she went to 
the front gate of the large lawn to receive a 
letter for herself from the hands of the rural 
postman. As she entered the sitting-room her 
hostess remarked: “Mrs. Bryan, don’t forget 
to latch the screen doors whenever you come in. 
Dan says that when we’re on the porch it’s safer 
to face the road and the outer angle of the 
house. You know, all the women out here have 
been in a state of terror since last December.” 

“Have you no weapens?” Olivia asked, with a 
thought of her own guarded home at Ridgway. 

“Come,” the farmer’s wife answered, “Fll 
show you. Look at these” — and she pointed to 
a bracket placed high on the wall, where lightly 
covered by a scarf lay two pistols well cleaned 
and burnished; one evidently of latest manufac- 
ture, the other showed the make of another day. 

“Henry — that’s Dan oldest son — gave me this 
pistol the last time he was here,” she said, touch- 
ing the modern firearm. “You know I’m my 
husband’s second wife; he’s more than twenty 
years older than I am. Henry’s an engineer on 
the C. S. road and lives in Kentucky. The other,” 
she continued, “is the weapon Dan carried 
through the war. My husband cleaned that 
pistol more than forty years ago to fight for the 
negro’s freedom. Little did he think the time 
would come when he would clean it again, so 
it might be ready for his wife to defend her 
honor from an attack of a member of that same 
race.” 

“And a wise woman you are, my friend,” was 
Mrs. Bryan’s answer^ as she opened the letter 


The Note of Discord 105 

she still held in her hand. It was from Mrs., 
Selwyn who lived in a town along the shore of 
Long Island. Three years before, Mrs. Bryan 
had met this New York friend at a little hotel in 
North Carolina as Mrs. Selwyn, accompanied by 
her husband, was on the way to Florida, and 
she was returning from a northern trip. 

On this occasion the two women had quickly 
formed a mutual attachment, and though never 
having seen each other since, still corresponded 
at long intervals. In her letter Mrs. Selwyn 
stated that so many and varied were the accounts 
of the Jackson case as published by the northern 
newspapers that she, like many others, was at 
a loss to know which to believe, and so had 
written her southern acquaintance in order to 
learn the true particulars of the affair. ‘‘Some 
of our people,” she wrote, “think the southern 
papers are inclined to exaggerate the dangers to 
which the women of your section are exposed 
through the presence of vicious negroes. It is 
sometimes claimed here that these crimes are 
committed only against women in the lowest 
walks of life.” 

Mrs. Milton exclaimed in eagerness: “Write 
your friend to-day and tell her the true condi- 
tions on this subject in the south. Tell her of 
your own experiences — of the dreadful time of 
which you told me, when little Bess opened the 
kennel door and set the dogs on that negro brute. 
Come to the window, Mrs. Bryan,” the little 
New England hostess continued, in excited tones, 
“Look across the hill at that negro graveyard. 
You see that new monument just beyond the 


io6 The Note of Discord 

bank of red clay? That’s what some of the col- 
ored people of Camden who call themselves 
good citizens, have just erected over the grave 
of Ned Jackson as a memorial to the black 
fiend.” 

''And it stands here in sight of the monument 
to Lytle — the brave general killed that day when 
your husband, and other federal heroes, risked 
a disgraceful death to climb Historic Ridge and 
plant on its top the banner of victory for the 
Union cause!” cried Olivia, with flushed cheeks 
and sparkling eyes. 

"That’s just what I told Dan last night,” the 
farmer’s wife returned. 

"An insult to the womanhood of the south,” 
Olivia cried, in angry resentment. 

"Don’t say that, Mrs. Bryan. You mean to 
the women of our whole country. Answer your 
friend’s letter to-day, and tell her about that 
monument, too; write her as nobody else can. 
I wish I could write like you, Mrs. Bryan, I’d 
tell our folks up home something,” the good 
woman said; then added: "Take this easy chair 
and sit in the bay window while you write, and 
I’ll do up my morning’s baking. Then we’ll have 
a nice afternoon over our embroidery.” 

As the hostess closed the door between sitting- 
room and kitchen, looking back to her guest she 
said: "Put it strong; you can’t write the truth 
and put it half strong enough.” 

So, this daughter of an old rebel colonel, the 
wife of a southern republican, sat in this New 
England home in the south and wrote a letter 
to her friend in the distant north. When she 


The Note of Discord 107 

had finished her writing she went to the kitchen, 
where the New England housewife, behind 
latched doors, baked beans and fried doughnuts ; 
and while her friend looked at her with misty 
eyes Olivia read this portion of the letter she 
had written to the woman in the distant north: 

‘‘Having described conditions as they exist, 
and given the history of the infamous Jackson 
case, I will relate two of my own experiences — 
one a spoken insult — the other the saddest event 
of an otherwise happy life. 

“You may remember, Mrs. Selwyn, during the 
day I spent with you in the North Carolina town, 
I mentioned the little farm where at that time 
my family was accustomed to spend the summer ; 
indeed, we often went to the quiet spot just be- 
fore the Easter season. Seven years ago, 
while passing the early spring days here, one 
Saturday afternoon, near dusk, I had occasion 
to accompany my husband to town, where he had 
an engagement to meet a prominent republican on 
an important political mission. Judge Bryan was 
driving a horse newly purchased which grew 
very restive as we approached Thornton Avenue, 
where it intersects with the road lying along the 
foot of Historic Ridge. Here — my husband ex- 
pressing regret that he had asked me to drive 
behind the unruly horse — I said I would prefer 
to walk two squares to the street car station^ 
where a car to town would be passing in a few 
minutes. He turned around and started to drive 
me the proposed distance, but, just then, the horse^ 
giving another plunge, I hurriedly left the trap 
for the walk alone. Again the Judge suggested 


io8 The Note of Discord 

that, for my protection, he would drive the dis- 
tance as I walked — at that time there were no 
houses nearer than the point where the two car 
lines intersect at the junction station. But I 
could never bear the thought of his neglecting 
a public duty on my account and reminded him 
that at further delay his political friend would 
soon have left his office. So, yielding to my en- 
treaties, my husband drove away and I walked 
on alone in the deepening dusk. The car coming 
from town stopped at the station in the distance, 
and I noticed a negro man coming towards me 
down the middle of the road from the direction 
of the car station. 

‘'As he passed — an evil look on his brutish 
face — he stepped close to my side with an inso- 
lent salutation — too insolent to repeat in these 
lines — then, with a vile laugh, hurried onward. 
With a gasp of terror I looked quickly around — 
stifling a scream as the man had gone, I dread- 
ed a sensation^ — and ran hurriedly forward. A 
minute later I saw the dim outlines of three 
figures, two men and one woman, in the junction 
station, waiting for a belated car to the Ridge. 
Then I knew that the accidental presence of 
these people in the little street car station, un- 
known to me, but known to the negro, was all 
that had saved me from the fate of Virginia 
Thomson — I — the mother of children and the 
wife of a republican official of Tennessee. 

“Only my closest friends have ever heard of 
the following sad incident, to which I referred in 
the beginning of my letter, and I am sure you 
will appreciate my confidence and read it in the 


The Note of Discord 109 

same spirit of delicacy, in which I write, A year 
after the fright I have just described, we were 
spending a happy summer at the farm. Here 
we delighted in the beauties of country life and 
enjoyed to the fullest, the horses, the Jersey cows 
and little Bob’s Shetland pony, his grandfather’s 
latest gift. Another attractive feature of animal 
life collected there was four Scotch collies, kind- 
ly, intelligent, and dear to the hearts of my 
husband and children. But I love strength and 
courage, and my favorite of the kennel was the 
brindle bulldog, Watch. 

''At this time Judge Bryan’s nieces were visit- 
ing us — bright little girls they were, of eight and 
ten. At this time the two houses near-by were 
not occupied, and in this quiet spot it was hard 
to keep negro servants at all, and that morning 
my colored cook had failed to come to her work. 
I had sent Bess’ nurse, a white woman, away for 
a Sunday afternoon’s rest, when my husband 
proposed driving to a point several miles dis- 
tant, where he knew that good household help 
could be secured. So, locking the dogs in the 
kennel that they might not follow him, he drove 
away with Bob by his side. The little girl bore 
me company and Denton, our white farm hand, 
was on the place for any needed protection. 

"But in a short time a boy came from the 
hired man’s home, two miles away, with the mes- 
sage that one of his children was very ill; and 
with a tender thought for his suffering one, I 
gave Denton permission to leave at once, not 
even telling him about the absence of the nurse. 
I then had a fearless nature despite my fright of 


no The Note of Discord 

the year before. Our finest Jersey had been sick 
that morning, and in a moment of anxious 
thought, leaving the little girls with Bess at play 
close by, I walked in the calm of the summer 
afternoon to a point overlooking the grassy 
meadow where the cattle grazed. 

‘Tn a few minutes Hugh’s nieces ran to me, 
saying that a negro man had approached them 
on the front lawn and asked for Judge Bryan. 
Upon them telling him that the Judge was not 
at home, the negro next inquired, ‘Who is 
here?’ to which they had answered, ‘Nobody but 
auntie and us.’ Whereupon the little girls, see- 
ing him continue his way to the house, had fled 
to me in affright. 

“Attempting to quiet their fears with the as- 
surance that the man only wished to leave some 
message for their uncle, I hurried in by a rear 
entrance. But, with the thought of the possible 
need of self-protection, I took a pistol from the 
cabinet in my bedroom and concealing it within 
the loose folds of my maternity gown, stepped 
out on the front veranda and called to the ap- 
proaching negro, in a calm and pleasant tone, 
‘Judge Bryan is not at home. Is there any mes- 
sage for him?’ The man — ragged, more than 
six feet tall and stalwart in proportion — hesi- 
tated an instant, then without a word came 
rapidly towards me.* In one breathless second 
I remembered that the dogs were shut in the 
kennel in the rear of the house — that I had never 


*An incident that occurred near Chattanooga, Tennes- 
see, Sept., 1899. 


The Note of Discord 


III 


shot a pistol — and — that this one, having been 
loaded for months, was doubtless rusty from dis- 
use. Again I called to the advancing negro, 
‘What do you want here? Don’t dare come into 
this house;’ but as he, unheeding, neared the 
steps of the broad veranda, I clasped the hid- 
den weapon with a steady hand and sent one 
swift, silent prayer to God. 

“He heard and answered ! 

“At that instant, unseen by the negro or my- 
self, my three-year-old baby girl, at play among 
the grapevines close by, had watched him ad- 
vance towards her mother. With a wisdom sent 
to her by God Himself, she toddled to the ken- 
nel, turned the wooden button which confined 
its door, released the five dogs, and pointing a 
tiny finger towards the negro, cried to her own 
pet collie, ‘Sic’ him, Jess!’ 

“But swiftly over the heads of the gentle col- 
lies came my faithful bulldog. Watch. With 
one look of fierce affection and loyal courage 
at his defenseless mistress he sprang to the 
negro’s throat. 

“Then a battle between the black brute and 
the brindle! Almost an equal match they were 
as beating off with a stick the attack of the en- 
raged dog the powerful negro slowly fought 
his way towards the high plank of the garden 
fence. Then, with one tremendous effort freed 
himself from the hold of the angry dog, scaled 
the fence with the skill of an acrobat, and fled 
madly down the country road. While Watch, 
rushing in triumph back with a piece of the 


II2 


The Note of Discord 


negro’s clothing between his teeth proudly laid 
it at my feet. 

‘Three weeks from that day the child, for 
whose coming we had longed to bless our hearts 
and home, came — only to be laid in a baby's 
coffin. Dead, three weeks before its birth — 
killed, so the scientific doctors said, by severe 
fright and strong emotion. Then I went down 
into the dim, dark valley to fight the monster of 
Death. But not alone, for love and gold and 
skill fought with me. 

“We won — but ever since to me the boon of 
health has been denied. 

“It is stories like this and hundreds like them 
of which the newspapers have never heard, that 
make the blood run seething hot in the veins 
of the true manhood of the south. 

“As I write these lines in the home of a 
friend on the east side of Historic Ridge, I lift 
my eyes for a moment, and they fall in the 
distance on two marble shafts, gleaming in the 
sunlight. One is the monument erected by the 
United States Government to the memory of 
the gallant Lytle who fell November 25th, 1863, 
in the charge up Historic Ridge — that act of 
glorious disobedience of martial law! An act of 
disobedience, far-reaching in its results, which 
decided the fate of the Civil War and carried 
the Union arms to victory. 

“Not far away a monument has been erected 
by the so-called best colored citizens of Cam- 
den, at a cost of two hundred and fifty dollars, 
to the memory of Ned Jackson — a negro rapist 
of a white woman, condemned for this crime to 


The Note of Discord 


113 


death by a court of Tennessee. A monument 
which, in one sense, stands as an insult to the 
womanhood of our nation ; yet, in another sense, 
is a result of an act of glorious disobedience of 
civil law; an act of disobedience far-reaching in 
its results, that rebuked with deadly effect brutish 
attacks on virtue and gave to the women of Har- 
rison county the protection which is their right.” 


The Note of Discord 


114 


CHAPTER XVL 

At the next convening of the grand jury in 
Camden began the investigation of Ned Jack- 
son's lynching which had occurred on the nine- 
teenth of the past March. The officers of the 
court were eager for the facts to be made known 
in order that their own conduct might be vindi- 
cated; while the citizens oi Camden were anx- 
ious, if possible, to secure evidence concerning 
the identity of the lynchers, so that whatever 
punishment might be awaiting them could be 
kept within the jurisdiction of the courts of their 
own county and state as these citizens were, in 
the main, men and sons of men who had fought 
four bloody years, though in vain, for the right 
of each state to control her own interests. 

Although more than one hundred and fifty 
men were summoned to appear before the grand 
jury, no one of them was able to identify a 
single member of the so-called mob. Not even 
the editor of the morning paper was able to 
assist the grand jury in the identification of the 
guilty parties, though he had claimed to have 
been cognizant of Jackson's dying words. And 
therefore the grand jury was powerless, under 
the laws of the country, to indict unknown men. 

Immediately following the action of the grand 
jury the Federal authorities at Washington 


The Note of Discord 115 

summoned Sheriff Shipley to appear, in October, 
before the Supreme Court of the United States 
to answer the charge of contempt. Eight of his 
deputies and fifteen of the twenty-five men said 
to have been implicated in Jackson’s death re- 
ceived the same notice. Their names had been 
secured by the aid of government detectives 
who, it was claimed, had been working on the 
case for several weeks following the death of the 
negro rapist. 

The campaign for the sheriff’s office was 
quietly planned, it being the desire of the demo- 
cratic committee to excite as little race antagon- 
ism as possible under the circumstances. Ship- 
ley’s opponent, Dan Barclay, was the best mate- 
rial the republicans could have offered against 
him in this contest. 

Possessing a charming personality, he was en- 
dowed with every quality of manhood that would 
endear him to his associates. Experience as a 
deputy sheriff, in a former administration, had 
especially qualified him to fill the office he now 
sought and it was only through the candidacy 
of such an individual that his party hoped for a 
possible victory over Captain Shipley. Colonel 
Carleton and Bruce championed the cause of 
their friend, the present sheriff, with their cus- 
tomary ardor; while Judge Bryan, being a re- 
publican officeholder, was forced to be publicly 
non-committal on this all-important subject. 

But Olivia as she went to and fro among her 
friends with an adroitness and seeming indiffer- 
ence that were part of her mental weapons 
would lead up to the subject of the sheriff’s 


ii6 The Note of Discord 

election, then speak kind words for Captain 
Shipley. 

Since the last action of the Federal authorities, 
the negroes, with few exceptions, were domi- 
nated by a race hatred whose strength had never 
been equalled — a spirit which, in many cases, was 
met with little patience. 

With this new attitude the servant question in 
Camden grew more impossible, and the lives of 
home-makers became strenuous as the southern 
summer progressed. Mrs. Bryan had ever been 
a popular employer among the negroes who 
sought service in the homes of Camden. Once 
her brother had remarked: “Olivia's servants 
are always so fond of her. I guess it's because 
of her imperious nature and kind heart 
that make her alternately boss and pet them." 
But now, eyen in Olivia's home, cooks came and 
went at will while the energetic mistress en- 
deavored with her own hands to supply the de- 
ficiency of incompetent labor. 

One day Mrs. Murray ventured to suggest: 
“Mrs. Bryan, don't you suppose that the change 
in your servants is caused by your attitude in 
connection with the sheriff's election?" and to 
this Olivia replied: “I've never mentioned this 
subject in the presence of any negro except old 
Mahaly and again at Caroline Taylor's request. 
The kitchen and the pantry are the servants' do- 
main and they have a right to their own ideas, 
properly expressed, as I have to mine. How- 
ever, I reserve the privilege of speaking my 
views to my family and friends at my own dis- 
cretion. Before I'll fail to declare ray opinions 


Tni Note of Discord 117 

on the present situation to please the negroes of 
Camden, Til die at that kitchen table/' And the 
friend who knew her indomitable spirit, believed 
this to be no idle boast. 

At the Carleton home indifferent, incompetent 
service tried the patience of its placid mistress. 
Bruce came in, daily, with reports of some fresh 
display of race feeling and, especially, he would 
become incensed over the hundreds of vile, 
threatening letters which his father's friend. 
Sheriff Shipley, was receiving from venomous 
negroes, on account of the Jackson case. 

'‘Son," said the patient mother to Bruce, as 
he came in one day unusually disturbed, “I'm 
sorry for these negroes who are now causing us 
so much trouble. They're to be pitied — they've 
been victims of the mistakes of others and of 
false views on the part of their so-called friends 
about conditions surrounding them. They were 
once, mainly, a faithful, obedient, peaceable peo- 
ple who lived their simple lives in health and con- 
tentment. The change in their race has been 
brought about by misguided friends who have 
unfitted them for one station in life — the one 
for which God says they were intended — and 
have failed to fit them for another." 

“Mother, you see the negro through the rose- 
colored glasses of the past," the young man re- 
turned. “All that the white men of the south 
ask of the negro is that he enjoy the same rights 
of church, school, railways, public institutions, 
and material comforts, except those from which 
he's barred by the necessity of social equality. 
His attempt to secure social or even political 


li8 The Note of Discord 

equality in the south is useless; and we demand 
that the influence of the best of the negro race 
be directed against these brutish attacks on the 
virtue of the white women/^ 

'T still maintain that a negro in his place is 
a most worthy creature/' said this woman of the 
old south, in response. 

''So he is, mother," her high-spirited son re- 
turned. "So is fire, in its place, a great comfort; 
but what about fire when it gets beyond con- 
trol?" 

Here he was interrupted by a call to the tele- 
phone; a member of the male quartet wished to 
speak to him concerning an entertainment at the 

Army Post. The officers of the Cavalry 

had arranged for a musicale, one of a series of 
affairs by which they hoped to raise funds for 
a much needed chapel at their barracks. Some 
of Camden's best musicians were aiding the 
officers in their efforts, and Bruce, possessing a 
rich baritone voice, had been among the first to 
offer his assistance. And, ah! too, for the first 
time in his wholesome life, Bruce Carleton was 
touched with a tender love — now he realized the 
one girl in the world for him was Dorothy, the 
daughter of Captain Douglass of the Army 
Post. 

Returning from the entertainment, close to 
midnight, the young man had just dropped into 
the healthful sleep of youth when suddenly he 
was aroused by the sound of six pistol shots 
fired in rapid succession in less than a square 
of his home, followed by a loud cry for help. 
He turned uneasily in his bed, thinking that 


The Note of Discord 119 

some negro brawl of nightly occurrence was 
again disturbing the peace of Camden. Then a 
beseeching cry rang loud on the midnight air.* 

'‘Lawdy! help! help! Tm shot to pieces! All 
de white folks come here — all the white folks 
come here, quick!’’ 

Bruce Carleton sprang from his bed with a 
bound. Half clad he ran into the hall, heard 
Betty calling his name, as she flashed the electric 
light, and saw her with a kimona thrown around 
her on the way to the telephone below. As he 
ran quickly down the stairs he heard his sister 
calling the name of the old Irish sergeant at 
police headquarters. 

Again the piteous cry rang loud and clear, 
'^All de white folks come here!” and Betty, now 
ill her room up stairs, peeping from the window 
saw three young men of a neighboring square 
follow Bruce in the direction of the distressing 
cries. Then came the patrolman of the beat; 
two mounted policemen galloped rapidly past; 
next followed the city physician, dispatched by 
the warm Irish heart at police headquarters at 
sweet Betty Carleton’s call. And now the patrol 
wagon and hospital ambulance hurried to the 
scene. All the white folks had come there 
‘"quick.” 

This heartrending appeal came from a negro 
man, himself, one of the best of his race in Cam- 
den. Returning from his work at a late hour on 
Saturday night he had been shot by two negro 


*An incident which occurred near the writer’s home, 
July, 1906. 


120 


The Note of Discord 


footpads, upon refusing to hold up his hands on 
their demand. Fearing their further vengeance 
he had loudly called on the white folks for pro- 
tection. It was white hands that lifted him into 
the ambulance. It was white hands that guided 
the horses which carried him to a place of se- 
curity and comfort. It was white hands that 
dressed his wounds with scientific skill. 

His cry for the white folks’ help had been an- 
swered — as the same cry from his race has ever 
been answered, save when the white man’s blood 
seethes hot with rage at the foul crimes com- 
mitted by black fiends against white women — 
crimes viewed with indifference or approval by 
a large part of the negro race! 


The Note of Discord 


I2I 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A few days later Betty left with the party of 
Olivia’s friends on her journey to the far west. 
When she said good-bye to Freeman as he stood 
by Bruce’s side at the railway station, she felt 
a vague regret, even a tiny throb of heartache, 
for the patient love, the refined companionship, 
that she would miss in the coming weeks of her 
absence. 

Freeman missed keenly the presence of the 
beautiful girl he loved. The stately home on the 
avenue seemed deserted as he passed it on his 
afternoon drives. He even felt a pang of satis- 
faction when, at the end of the week, Mrs. Carle- 
ton closed her home to spend a month at Ray 
Springs. Olivia, with Bob and Bess, accom- 
panied her mother to this nearby summer resort 
where, after spending a few days, she expected 
to leave her children in Mrs. Carleton’s care 
during the month of July. She was too much 
interested in the sheriff’s election to leave Cam- 
den in tlie month preceding that event ; then, she 
had her own plans for a vacation later. 

During this interval of the absence of his 
friends, Eugene Freeman eagerly welcomed the 
arrival of a former acquaintance, Guy Newton, 
from his old home in tile east who on a busi- 
ness trip to a southern city, had stopped in Cam- 


T22 


The Note of Discord 


den to see the Grand Mountain and other historic 
scenes of this picturesque country. The two 
friends from New England were awaiting the 
coming of Judge Bryan whom Freeman had 
invited to dine with them in his bachelor apart- 
ments. Bruce Carleton, having met Newton, had 
accorded him all possible courtesies; but that 
night he had gone to fulfill an engagement for 
a dinner party at the home of Captain Douglass 
of the Army Post. 

The apartments in which the two men awaited 
the Judge’s coming had been furnished at the 
dictation of Freeman’s own tasteful ideas. The 
artistic though careful arrangement, the minute 
attention to detail, the quiet elegance of his 
apartments, and personal belongings, bespoke the 
well-bred, well-groomed man of New England. 

Newton had read in the newspapers that 
Sheriff Shipley, his deputies and the lynching 
party had been summoned to appear in Washing- 
ton in October, to answer the charge of con- 
tempt of Supreme Court. Freeman, explaining 
to his friend the conditions before and since 
these men had received the summons to Wash- 
ington, declared his intention to vote for Sheriff 
Shipley in the coming August election. 

''Eugene Freeman, you, the son of an ardent 
abolitionist and of a federal soldier, tell me that 
you intend to vote for a southern democrat, a 
captain in the Rebel Army, a man charged with 
contempt of Supreme Court! The memories of 
Garrison and Brooks be with us 1” he added in a 
reverent tone, with a look of reproof on his 
countenance. 


The Note of Discord 123 

*Tt is my firm resolve to vote for Sheriff 
Shipley/’ Freeman returned as his earnest face 
settled into sterner lines. “And, Newton, it is 
owing to my strong sense of justice and the 
courage to stand by the convictions of my con- 
science which have fixed my decision of voting 
for Captain Shipley. I believe him to have been 
ignorant of the intention of the mob that hanged 
Jackson; but if he had known of the purpose of 
these men, under the peculiar conditions sur- 
rounding this race question, I would have been 
tempted to have forgiven him. The negroes 
stoutly declare the sheriff’s connivance of the 
action of the lynchers. Tlieir ignorant masses 
think Shipley’s defeat will signify a champion- 
ship of the rights of the negro to commit such 
vile deeds at his discretion; while the sheriff’s 
reelection will signify to their minds the con- 
tinuance of the swift and terrible punishment for 
this crime against women.” 

Freeman went on, his friend listening with 
renewed interest: “I regarded the conditions 
here as you do, Newton, when I first came south 
but seven years’ residence in Camden has proven 
that the question of the negro problem and poli- 
tics here is a peculiarly intricate one, and can 
scarcely be explained to the satisfaction of the 
residents of another section. You must be on 
the spot to appreciate the situation. But in one 
sense these people should teach us a lesson of 
justice — we, who call ourselves the most just of 
all people. They do not criticise the methods 
by which we deal with whatever problems we 
may have in our own part of the country. They 


124 The Note of Discord 

do not attempt to teach us how to administer our 
laws and forever find fault with the customs of 
our section. We should, at least, be equally fair 
to them.’' 

*‘1 beg pardon, Freeman,” his guest replied, 
‘'if I spoke too strongly a moment ago. I did 
not know you had become so imbued with south- 
ern ideas. I understand, now, the meaning of the 
words I heard this morning in the hotel rotunda. 
A group of men, evidently from their conversa- 
tion republican politicians, were discussing the 
coming election. ‘I know what’s the trouble with 
Freeman,’ one of them observed, 'it’s that starry- 
eyed daughter of the old Colonel on Thornton 
avenue.’ 

"I guess he referred to Miss Carleton whom 
you have mentioned in your letters,” Newton 
continued, with a look of interest at his friend. 

"There is her picture,” replied Freeman, re- 
turning his guest’s glance proudly as he pointed 
to Betty’s beautiful face on the wall. 

"Ah, I see! The fastidious Freeman has been 
captured by a southern beauty. I envy your 
good fortune,” the New England visitor re- 
marked with a pleasant grace of manner. 

"I proudly confess,” Freeman confided, "that 
I love that beautiful girl with a strength and 
sincerity which, I claim, few of her southern 
lovers can equal — love her with a possible hope 
of return;” and a shy look of happiness stole 
over his face with the thought of Betty — of the 
lingering hand-clasp, the sweet, half-sad smile 
she had given him at parting. "I also confess 
that my ideas may have, at first, been influenced 


The Note of Discord 1^5 

by the noble family whom I met on my arrival 
in Camden. Colonel Carleton is a grand char- 
acter, and as for my friend Bruce — a truer heart 
never beat in a braver breast. 

''Mrs. Carleton is a type of the women of the 
old south, as we have read of them, while her 
elder daughter, Mrs. Bryan, is an up-to-date 
woman in the best sense of the word. 

"When I met these intelligent people, I ac- 
credited them with the proper capacity with 
which to judge the conditions of their own sec- 
tion, and on further investigation, looking deeper 
into the problems around me, I realized that the 
people of the south are not only a brave, but a 
patient, magnanimous people. 

"I hear Judge Bryan’s step,” the host con- 
tinued. "He is very tactful and courteous, and 
will be reluctant to speak of political questions 
in your presence; but I will endeavor to lead 
him into a discussion on this subject. He has one 
of the fairest minds in Camden,” Freeman add- 
ed in an undertone as Hugh Bryan entered the 
room. 

"Yes,” said the Judge, in answer to a question 
from Freeman, after he had in vain attempted 
to lead the conversation to general topics, "it is 
true that the republicans of the south have little 
or no hope of their party’s advancement into 
general favor, unless some plan will materialize 
to eliminate the negro from its councils.” 

"I have observed. Judge, as in the case of your 
election four years since that a republican who 
chances to win in a political contest is not elected 


126 


The Note of Discord 


because he is a republican but in spite of the 
fact that he is one,” commented Freeman. 

‘'That's without doubt true; a republican who 
runs for office here knows he must depend upon 
the support of his democratic friends to win 
success. He knows he can’t depend upon the 
negroes in an election. However, to their honor 
be it said, there is a small contingent who never 
fails to vote for their party’s choice. A popular 
candidate on the republican ticket will be sup- 
ported by his white friends as long as the negro 
idea is eliminated from the contest. Let that 
issue enter, and they flock wildly back to the 
democratic standard. That’s the reason election 
results are so peculiar in our part of the state 
which, you know, is largely republican — a con- 
dition that is not always understood by my party 
in other sections.” 

“What is the remedy. Judge Bryan?” asked 
the New England guest. 

“There are several methods by which we could 
gradually rid ourselves of the negro’s presence — 
deportation, which I think impracticable. De- 
port where? Back to Africa, for which some of 
his own leaders clamor, would be unjust to the 
best of the race ; it would leave the south without 
its laboring class, a condition that would, how- 
ever, become adjusted in time. To which state 
could the negro be deported or to what section 
would the nation send this' turbulent race, in- 
capable of self-government? 

“The remedy I personally prefer for this 
trouble,” Bryan continued, “is that the leaders 
and teachers of the negroes, their true and not 


The Note of Discord 127 

misguided friends, convince them if they give 
up their wild dreams of social and political equal- 
ity and join in the white man’s demand that the 
crime against white women cease” — here the 
mild eyes of the Judge gleamed with unwonted 
fire — "'then the south would be the best place 
for the masses of the negro race. 

“But there is another plan — one that could 
easily be carried out by the aid of the wealth and 
philanthropy of other sections — that is, to colo- 
nize the negro within the borders of the United 
States, to send a certain number of thousands of 
them to each state in the Union, relieve the con- 
gested south, make the race problem general, so 
that our citizens of all sections would understand 
its meaning. The north and east need them for 
cabmen, janitors, hotel waiters and porters; the 
west needs them as laborers on the farms. Com- 
petition is the life of every business. 

“Massachusetts, for instance, Mr. Newton,” 
the Judge remarked to the northern visitor, “has 
a number of rich philanthropists who erect grand 
monuments and endow marvelous institutions. 
If that state would use some of its great wealth 
to colonize thousands of southern negroes with- 
in its borders, that would be the noblest of all 
its charitable acts.” 

“That is fair. Judge. Massachusetts sent the 
negro to the south, it cannot be unfair to ask 
that she take him back,” Freeman observed with 
a chuckle, looking at Newton’s discomfited face, 
then at the serious, impassive countenance of 
Judge Bryan; and the host never knew whether 


128 The Note of Discord 

his guest’s last words had been spoken in earn- 
estness or sarcasm. 

'T hope I have advanced no unjust theory/’ 
Bryan added, ‘'when I advise this plan of coloni- 
zation. My greatest ambition for my country 
is a mutual understanding of this race problem.” 

Then Freeman spoke in earnest tones: ‘T have 
often wondered, since I came south, how pe- 
culiar has been the influence of this negro ques- 
tion on the white men of different sections. 

“We have ostracized the yellow man from our 
shores; we have accorded the red man a treat- 
ment which many consider unworthy of our na- 
tion; by what graces of race or character must 
the black man evermore be ‘A Note of Discord, 
in the harmony of our Union?” 


The Note of Discord 


129 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

On Olivia’s return from Ray Springs, after a 
week’s absence, Judge Bryan related to her the 
conversation which had occurred at Eugene 
Freeman’s apartments a few days before. 

‘That’s the man for Betty,” she exclaimed 
warmly ; and that night while the household 
slept, she stole out to the starlit balcony on the 
upper floor of her home, to dream and plan for 
the future. She knew Bruce and his friend 
were expecting to enjoy their vacation together, 
after the sheriff’s election in August. They had 
not yet matured their plans, and Bruce was ever 
hers to command; while Freeman, she believed, 
would eagerly welcome any arrangement by 
which he might soon see Betty. 

Hugh’s cousin, Tom Gordon, had married An- 
nie Ray, one of her girlhood friends at the old 
Virginia school where her mother and she and 
Betty had received their education. The Gor- 
dons lived in the west where Tom had become 
a rich man and a big ranch owner. Annie, 
writing at long intervals, had described the 
numerous house parties in which she and her 
husband welcomed their friends with the over- 
flowing hospitality of the western country; and 
these kind relatives often expressed a desire that 
she and Hugh might visit them in their far-off 
home. 


130 The Note of Discord 

Hugh did not like gay companies ; neither did 
his scheming wife, if the truth were known ; but 
she now formed the intention of visiting the 
Gordons, and resolved that the Judge, Bruce and 
Freeman should accompany her, and there meet 
Betty as she returned from her distant journey. 

Then this woman of the busy brain and happy 
heart slipped into Hugh’s den, to find a railway 
pamphlet that she had brought home before her 
sister left for the west. Yes, the little town 
from which Annie’s letters were mailed lay near 
to the large city where Betty’s party would 
change cars for the homeward journey. She 
resolved to write Annie the next day, knowing 
that an invitation would come, at once, for Bruce 
and his friend to join Hugh and herself on a 
visit to the Gordon ranch. 

Annie had known Bruce as a schoolboy, when 
she had been entertained at the Carleton home 
in the sweet days of the past; and Olivia knew 
the warm welcome that these open-hearted west- 
ern people would accord her brother’s friend 
from New England. 

Then she remembered, with gratitude to God, 
her sister’s escape from the love of Ross Gran- 
ville and the shameful secret now buried deep 
in the breast of the big patrolman. She felt, too, 
a little pang of conscience that she should be 
planning to take Betty from the love of Harry 
Shipley whom she and her mother both regarded 
with a warm affection; but they knew that Bet- 
ty’s feeling for him was akin to the love she 
felt for Bruce himself. 

Ever since that night when Eugene Freeman 


The Note of Discord 131 

with his conscience behind his gun had gone 
with Bruce to the armory, she had recognized 
the nobility of the nature that, despite the tradi- 
tions of the past, could perceive and acknowl- 
edge the right. And, too, there was a delicacy in 
her highly wrought, sensitive spirit that respond- 
ed to the innate refinement of this cultured man 
of the east. 

‘'That’s the man for Betty,’’ Olivia said again 
to herself with the match-making instinct that 
lurks in the heart of every loving woman as she 
plotted in secret, then told her plans to her 
pillow. 

A few evenings later, Hugh Bryan came home 
with a vexed expression on his usually placid 
face. 

“Olivia, dear, don’t you think that you are a 
little vehement in the expressions with which you 
speak of Sheriff Shipley’s reelection?” he asked 
with the first reproval he had ever given his wife. 

“Why, Hugh, I only say what you think your- 
self, and what, with few exceptions, every wom- 
an in Camden thinks,” Olivia returned with the 
artless air which she often used to conceal her 
deeper emotions. 

“That’s true, wife,” the Judge returned, “but 
you owe something to my position as a repub- 
lican officeholder.” 

“A republican officeholder,” she said archly, 
“elected by democratic voters!” 

“Yes, but nominated by a republican conven- 
tion,” was his reply. 

“Because you were one of the few of their 
number who, with the aid of your democratic 


132 The Note of Discord 

friends could carry their standard to victory. 
Captain Shipley is father’s friend; he has made 
a splendid officer, and has been unjustly treated. 
Aside from that, I might be allowed to speak a 
word for him in grateful memory of the demo- 
cratic votes that sent my husband to the circuit 
judge’s bench.” 

''What have you against Dan Barclay ?” 
Bryan questioned, turning the subject from her 
unanswerable argument. 

"That he’s Sheriff Shipley’s opponent,” came 
the quick retort of a woman’s unreason. 

"I’m sorry to say that some of the democratic 
politicians are chuckling in their sleeves at the 
championship of one of their candidates by the 
wife of the republican judge.” Hugh Bryan 
went on as the air of vexation deepened on his 
face. 

"I don’t care a snap for the democratic poli- 
ticians nor the republicans either,” Olivia re- 
turned, now aroused to anger. "Husband,” she 
continued in a softer tone, "for a dozen years 
I have deferred to you in every item of taste 
and judgment when once expressed, but you 
understand, as well as I, the conditions which 
surround Camden and which demand Sheriff 
Shipley’s reelection. You know that his election 
is not a question of party or politics — it is a 
question of principle and patriotism. And I’m 
a patriot, if I am a woman!” she said as she 
burst into bitter tears. And as she left the room 
she shut the door with a determined force, which 
only the gentle blood that flowed in her high- 
born veins saved from being a bang ! 


/ The Note of Discord 133 

Hugh Bryan was selfish — he loved his own 
hopes and plans and interests; but he loved, 
even better than he loved himself, this imperious, 
impatient, quick-tempered woman, with her 
warm heart of sympathy and her wild revolt 
against wrong and injustice. 

Later, when Olivia had calmed herself and 
the sweet face shone free of her strong emotions 
as the sun shines bright after the September 
thunder-storm, her husband with a tender look 
in his eyes and his arms around her, said, with a 
sly pleasantry — one of his chief charms — ‘'we 
must be careful, wife, lest this sad question that 
is agitating all Camden may become a ‘note of 
discord’ in the harmony of our union!” 

This closed the subject on the part of the in- 
dulgent husband; but patriotic Olivia as she 
passed to and fro among her friends, with adroit- 
ness and seeming indifference, still led up to the 
subject of the sheriff’s election, then spoke kind 
words for Captain Shipley. 


134 


The Note of Discord 


CHAPTER XIX. 

One evening, the last of July, a few days be- 
fore the county election, a group of men gath- 
red in a room at the Phoenix club was discussing 
the events of the past week as they related to this 
coming important event. 

Bruce Carleton, Eugene Freeman and the 
editor of the afternoon paper — that patriotic 
sheet, ever ready for the advancement of Cam- 
den's best interests — were joined by Colonel 
Carleton and Colonel Watkins, eager for any 
news bearing on the welfare of their war com- 
rade, Captain Joe Shipley, in the sheriff's race. 
Soon Hugh Bryan, accompanied by an ex- 
mayor, himself a republican, entered the room. 

The conversation naturally drifted from the 
details of election news into the ever-present race 
question and southern politics. 

‘Trice," asked Colonel Watkins of the editor, 
“have you been reading those striking articles 
in one of the Georgia papers that are advo- 
cating the doctrine of transportation for the ne- 
gro race? ‘Help us to separate,' is the cry of one 
of the best men and most able politicians in the 
south." 

“Yes, I've read those editorials with much in- 
terest," Price replied. “What do you and Col- 
onel Carleton think of that plan?" he inquired 
of the older men of the party. 


The Note of Discord 135 

‘Tn one sense it is the best thing for the 
south/’ Colonel Carleton thoughtfully observed. 
“It would eliminate at once the cause of the 
southern man’s present lack of political advance- 
ment in national affairs. The time was when 
southern men ranked first among the states- 
men of the nation. Why, Tennessee sent four 
Presidents to Washington. What hope has a 
southern man now, that one of his own number 
can, under the present regime, be chosen even 
for the second place on the presidential ticket? 
And why ?” 

“Because,” exclaimed Hugh Bryan, “the negro 
stands as an obstacle to the southern white man’s 
political advancement. We cannot depend upon 
him, even if ‘we should desire that he elect us 
to office. Few southern men will support a poli- 
tician who is known as the negro’s candidate.” 

“But, to return to the subject of transporta- 
tion,” Colonel Carleton continued, “at first our 
section would feel the sudden removal of our 
only laboring class, but we should soon adjust 
ourselves to new conditions. The south has 
passed through one upheaval in which she bore 
herself with credit.” 

“Yes, and our women bore their part, too, as 
we all remember,” cried Colonel Watkins. 

“Ah! that is one of the proudest memories of 
the southern heart,” Colonel Carleton returned, 
and proceeded with the discussion : “But, on 
the other hand, transportation would relieve the 
negro of the white man’s government and asso- 
ciation, without which he would soon return to 
barbarism, the state from which he came to us. 


136 


The Note of Discord 


And the negroes are God's creatures whom it is 
our duty to help and whom I wush well, in spite 
of the sins of the present. They are, too, the 
children of our faithful, dark friends of the 
past," and a shade of sadness crossed the old 
man's face. 

''Yes, father," exclaimed Bruce Carleton, "the 
reason you had faithful slaves and black friends 
in the past, was because they were under the 
white man's domination." 

"Give us your opinion on this subject. Judge," 
Colonel Watkins requested of Hugh Bryan, ever 
conservative and reluctant to express his views, 
uninvited. 

"Eugene and I have had a recent discussion 
on that subject," returned the Judge, looking 
towards Freeman with a non-committal air. "I 
do not say that I advocate this plan — even that 
it's best — but I claim that to colonize the negro 
into the various states of the Union would bring 
about a clear understanding of this race ques- 
tion and do more to cement the sections into a 
complete harmony than any other event. 'Bear 
ye one another's burdens' has always seemed to 
me a blessed text." 

"That is poetic theory. Judge," laughed Free- 
man, with the memory of Newton's discom- 
fited face before him. "I fear, however, that 
your theory will never materialize. The north- 
ern states are not searching further for an op- 
portunity to test the race problem. However, 
your ideas are more just to the negro, and 
equally as constitutional, as transportation or 
taking the franchise from him." 


The Note of Discord 137 

‘‘The Judge's plan/’ the ex-Mayor remarked, 
“would practically enforce white domination, by 
placing the negro in the minority as to the num- 
bers in each section. Competition is the life of 
business — each portion of the country could then 
have the advantage of both foreign and negro 
labor. We are now enduring a famine of labor 
here, in the foundries, shops, and domestic ser- 
vice.” 

“I know that is true, to my sorrow,” observed 
a young merchant who had lounged in a few 
minutes previous. “I’ve been trying to hire a 
servant for my wife, at home with a three- 
months-old baby in her arms, without cook or 
nurse — and Camden filled with hordes of idle, 
trifling negroes and with no possibility of en- 
gaging white help. The factories here em- 
ploy all the white women who otherwise might 
be induced to enter domestic service. I pay 
good wages, too, but was compelled this morn- 
ing to send my wife and baby to her mother’s 
home in Virginia until the cold weather sends 
these worthless negroes back to work again.” 

“We are all suffering from this same condi- 
tion,” the ex-Mayor remarked. “You see how 
Bryan’s plan for colonization would aid the ser- 
vant question, in both north and south.” 

“!ifes,” Bruce Carleton exclaimed, with a grim 
smile, “that sort of colonization would soon 
change to transportation, if the negro continued 
the same line of conduct that he pursues in the 
south to-day. I say dominate him, take away his 
franchise, to which he never had a right ; rid him 
of the foul hope of social and political equality in 


138 The Note of Discord 

the future. I claim that the colored man of the 
south has no greater enemy, to-day, than the 
half-educated members of his own race who, 
passing back and forth between the two sec- 
tions, bring with them wild and impossible 
stories of social equality and the intermarriage 
of the races in the cities of the north. The 
ignorant masses here listen with eagerness to 
these wonderful tales, and are urged to press 
their claims for the same glory in every direc- 
tion/' 

'T have observed," Freeman said, with a 
thoughtful air, ''that white domination is un- 
doubtedly imperative, and is in evidence here 
in every line of business. Whenever you see 
a crowd of negro workmen you sometimes see 
a negro foreman, at work with his men — but 
you will always find a white man, and never a 
negro, as superintendent." 

"A negro superintendent!" exploded Colonel 
Carleton. "Why, a crowd of negroes would 
mob one the first day!" 

"Yet they love their white boss — if he has the 
power of control in his nature and can com- 
bine judicious kindness with it," declared Colonel 
Watkins. "Why, down here at Blunt's stable 
you'd think it was still slavery days — those 
darkies dote on the manager, and even quarrel 
with each other as to which one is his favorite." 

"That very spirit," Freeman declared, "shown 
in business should, as Bruce claims, prove the 
necessity of white domination in politics." 

"I thought you were a stanch republican, 


The Note of Discord 139 

Mr. Freeman,” commented the editor in a court- 
eous tone. 

‘'Mr. Price,” replied Freeman earnestly, “my 
politics are the same as those of Bruce Carleton, 
of Judge Bryan, of your son. Colonel Watkins 
— or more than half of the progressive young 
men of the south to-day whether of northern 
or southern birth; when it is a question of the 
gold standard, the protection tariff and the busi- 
ness principles which have brought us unparal- 
leled prosperity, I am the best republican that 
ever screamed from a mountain crag; when the 
question arises of negro favoritism or white su- 
premacy, I am the best democrat that ever 
crowed at the dawn of a southern day.” Bursts 
of approving laughter and clapping of hands 
showed the noble-hearted man how much his 
words were appreciated by those about him. 

“Freeman has struck the keynote of the whole 
situation,” Bruce Carleton cried with ardor as he 
threw his hand with a gesture of strong approval 
on the shoulder of his friend. 

“Let us young men of the nation advocate the 
necessity of the repeal of the fifteenth amend- 
ment. The Republican Party in the past saw in 
the slaves of the south a faithful, obedient, in- 
dustrious people and thought that such worthy 
creatures as slaves would become yet more 
worthy as freemen; it did not know that these 
qualities were the result of the white man's 
domination, 

“If it were in my power to formulate a plan — 
that would be best for the good of the negro 
and the welfare of our nation — I would have the 


140 The Note of Discord 

government purchase a suitable, adjacent, for- 
eign, territory — where all over-ambitious, dissat- 
isfied negroes could go, and aided by our nation 
found a republic of their own. 

‘‘There they could have their own president, 
senators, and public officials of every order — 
and there, those of so-called high ideals could 
expend their ambition and energy. 

“The negroes who remain among us with the 
right of the franchise taken away, would within 
a generation return to their former friendly 
feeling and good-will toward the white people; 
for under proper conditions the average negro 
is as easily swayed to right as to wrong. 

“Our nation’s money expended in such an 
enterprise would do much to perpetuate har- 
mony and prosperity in our Union. 

“If, however, the great party now in power 
should fail to correct the mistake of a past gen- 
eration — let us young men of the nation form 
a new party — I would call it the Patriotic Party 
— in which we will preserve the business princi- 
ples and practical ideas of the republicans, then 
add to them white domination, already the first 
principle of the Democratic Party.” 

Here the young man’s father, abashed, looked 
in surprise at his son for Colonel Carleton was 
a democrat of the old regime, his motto — “My 
party, right or wrong; but always my party.” 

Bruce, with a respectful glance, went on: “I 
know, father, that you’re surprised at my words ; 
but we could not have succeeded as we have 
done in our manufacturing business in Camden 
except for the business principles of the Repub- 


The Note of Discord 141 

lican Party. Why must a man any longer be 
compelled to cut his conscience in two on elec- 
tion day — to vote the republican ticket in order 
to take care of our finances — to vote the demo- 
cratic ticket to protect our homes and women? 
There are thousands of men in the south to- 
day who unwillingly remain in the Democratic 
Party; but, with the memories of the past before 
them, they would die at the martyr’s stake be- 
fore they would join the Republican Party. And 
they cannot be blamed, for the mistaken policy 
of that party forty years ago is the cause of the 
wretchedness from which we are now suffering, 
in consequence of the negro problem.” 

‘‘Go on, Bruce — go on,” cried the editor and 
Freeman in a breath, as the young man paused 
a moment in his vehemence while the rest of 
the company looked on in thoughtful silence. 

‘T would have white domination the first prin- 
ciple of this new party. Take away the fran- 
chise. The first work of this new organization 
would be to devise means for the protection of 
white women from the attacks of negro rapists — 
the subject as you all know that lies nearest to 
my heart.” 

“Give us your views on that subject, Bruce; 
that’s what I want to hear,” called the ex-Mayor. 

The enthusiastic young man proceeded: “I 
have not yet thought enough on this phase of the 
subject to give a perfect plan in detail; but I 
would suggest that the Legislature appoint a 
committee — call it a special court — for the trial 
of rape alone. Let this court be composed of 
the best and most able citizens of each com- 


142 


The Note of Discord 


munity. Within twenty-four hours of the com- 
mission of the crime let the rapist be tried before 
this court — we shoot the mad dog on sight and 
kill the rattlesnake for a deed more excusable 
than the crime in question. If the accused man's 
innocence is established, none are more anxious 
to prove it than the best citizens of our com- 
munity. If circumstances should point to his 
guilt, retain him in prison for a certain length 
of time, until thorough investigation could be 
made. When guilt is certain, turn him over to 
the sheriff for an immediate execution, in a 
public place where his would-be imitators can 
perceive its horrors. 

'‘Every observant man in the south knows that 
the average negro prisoner enjoys being the 
hero of a court-room, with the arm of the law 
around him, his stolid nature resting securely 
in its slow processes. The sudden and fearful 
death at the hands of a mob, is all that 
deters hundreds of these brutes each day from 
crimes like Ned Jackson's. A lawful death as 
nearly similar as possible to the one dealt out by 
mob law is the only hope of a legal punishment 
for the crime of rape in the south." 

"That's true — that's true enough, Bruce," 
called Hugh Bryan and Colonel Watkins at once. 

The young man proceeded with renewed 
fervor: "Honest minds, which understand true 
conditions, will agree that the ignorant and vi- 
cious masses of the negro race have no concep- 
tion of the idea of female virtue, therefore the 
horror of the crime of rape as felt by the white 
race, passes their comprehension. I know there 


The Note of Discord 


143 


are many industrious, self-respecting negro men 
and women, and as taught by my parents, I yield 
to no one in a sincere regard for this class of 
people; but the majority of them regard the 
crime of rape on the same level with which they 
regard the crime of lewdness This is a truth 
which no intelligent, fair-minded member of the 
race in the south will deny. You question the 
colored workmen in your foundry,’' Bruce said 
to the ex-Mayor. ‘‘Willis Snow, the best negro 
man in Camden, will confirm this statement. You 
ask. the janitor of your apartment house. Free- 
man. He’s truthful and intelligent ; you’ll 
get it straight from him. Whenever a negro 
rapist is convicted before the courts, the masses 
of his race fiercely declare his innocence — resent 
even the prospect of his legal punishment as an 
insult to their race, and before his capture even 
conceal him from the search of pursuing officers, 
thereby becoming accomplices to the crime of 
rape. 

“These well-known truths are the inner 
reasons of mob violence in our section. Elim- 
inate from the south the class of citizens of 
whom the men of mobs f ;rm a type, and our 
white women would live lives of haunted terror. 
All honor to the nervy men in the rank and file 
of life! It is they who fight our battles; it is 
they who man our ships; we must confess it is 
to them, largely, we look for protection in times 
of distress and danger. 

“Honor for pure womanhood has evermore 
been the strongest principle of a manly heart. 
Even in the barbarous days of old, when a 


144 


The Note of Discord 


mighty lord of the land would carry off to his 
castle some beautiful maiden who had pleased 
his amorous fancy, then a hundred knights with 
lances poised rode swiftly to rescue the unknown 
woman detained against her will!'’ 

Here Bruce paused a moment, stopped by the 
applause of his hearers, then went on: “Why 
do Sheriff Shipley's opponents object to his 
reelection? Well do the thoughtful men of this 
town know that it means a more harmonious 
attitude in the present strained relations between 
white employer and colored employee. It means 
the safety and security of the home. It means, 
for the present, the protection of white women 
against further attacks of negro rapists. 

“Why shall this confederate captain suffer? 
Because a band of enraged men avenged the 
ruined life of a daughter of a man who wore 
the Blue; for the victim of the brutish Jackson 
was the daughter of an Ohio republican, a sol- 
dier of the Grand Army, who fought four years 
to free the negro — then received as his reward 
the dishonor of his daughter!" Bruce finished 
with flushed face and flashing eyes; then walked 
to Freeman's side, amid the loud approval of his 
friends. 

“Was the unfortunate girl in question the 
daughter of a federal soldier?" asked the young 
merchant, lately from Virginia. 

“Yes," replied the ex-Mayor, “her father 
fought with my oldest brother in the Ninety- 
ninth Ohio Regiment." 

“It seems to me," said the young merchant, 
“under the present circumstances that the sol- 


The Note of Discord 


MS 


dicrs of the Grand Army would be apt to express 
a manly sympathy for the men of the so-called 
mob. It certainly has taken away, to a large 
extent, from an old comrade's heart the sting 
of his daughter's humiliation, to know that the 
black brute had met a just and speedy death at 
the hands of outraged citizens." 

''Ah!" exclaimed Freeman, "if my father were 
alive, he would applaud that sentiment." 

"Well do we know," Colonel Watkins said to 
Colonel Carleton, "what our confederate vet- 
erans would do to aid these men, who had so 
effectually avenged the honor of a daughter of 
an old comrade." 

"Yes," cried Colonel Carleton in response, 
"and I'll never believe but that the soldiers of 
the Grand Army will feel as we would feel, until 
their conduct proves the contrary. In this case,^ it 
is the womanhood of our nation which has been 
avenged," the old Colonel added with emotion. 

At that moment Sheriff Shipley entered the 
room and the men greeted him with warmth, 
the republican Judge and ex-Mayor giving 
him a cordial welcome. 

The younger men sat apart, discussing more 
personal matters, while the three war comrades 
conversed together. Freeman soon observed 
that Colonel Carleton was in a reminiscent mood, 
and he moved nearer for he was ever charmed 
with the stories of the past from the lips of this 
grand old man, the father of the beautiful girl 
he loved. The other men listened, as Colonel 
Carleton, addressing Captain Shipley, said : "Joe, 
you remember Robinson, the chaplain of my 


146 The Note of Discord 

regiment? Twenty years after the war was over 
I met him in New York. 

''Among other incidents he related that an 
Englishman once asked him this question : 
'Where was the power by which that little hand- 
ful of a southern army held the great north 
at bay for four long years?’ The chaplain re- 
plied: "It was the southern women, in their 
dresses of homespun, singing Dixie and the Bon- 
nie Blue Flag.’ ” 

Bruce Carleton again started to his feet : "And 
the same spirit is here to-day,” he cried, as he 
flung his clenched hand on the oaken table be- 
fore him. "Men of a section have not changed 
in forty years. But, father while the women 
of Dixie sang, you fought a noble foe who came 
in open battle to fight for the right as they 
saw it. We men of the south to-day must guard 
our loved ones from the black beast who comes 
with the tiger’s stealth to mutilate his prey. 
And we’ll protect our women as long as a drop 
of manly blood flows in southern veins!” 

A storm of applause burst from the men 
around him, and Eugene Freeman cheered anew 
as the fires of Puritan justice burned in his steel- 
gray eyes. 


The Note of Discord 


147 


CHAPTER XX. 

The momentous day of the summer, the sec- 
ond of August, had arrived. The main interest 
of the voters of the county was centered in the 
all-important sheriff's election, the outcome of 
which was impossible to foretell since this polit- 
ical campaign had been the most peculiar ever 
waged in Camden. 

A son of a democratic ex-governor of a south- 
ern state was determined in his opposition to 
Captain Shipley. 

A son of a republican war governor of a bor- 
der state championed the cause of Sheriff Ship- 
ley with loud acclaim. 

But on the surface the views of the people 
were quietly expressed. Every effort had been 
made, and with success, to keep down any pub- 
lic antagonism. Many citizens were apparently 
neutral in their attitude, and Camden, to its sor- 
row, possessed many misguided philanthropists 
and unwise friends of the negro race. 

Bruce Carleton, with the consent of his part- 
ners, quitting business for a week, had made 
every effort towards the sheriff's reelection. 
In and out, in the haunts of men about town, in 
the hotel rotundas, on the street corners, and in 
the business offices he had gone, speaking a firm 
and manly word in behalf of Captain Shipley 


148 


The Note of Discord 


with that spirit of patriotism which had ever 
thrilled the Carleton blood at any public issue. 

The morning of election day Mrs. Carleton 
had shared an early breakfast with her son, who 
as he left home with a wave of his hand to his 
mother, cried : ^'To-day will prove whether 
there's more negro-lovers and milksops or true 
men in Harrison county," then went to spend 
the day at the polls. 

Scarcely a ripple of excitement disturbed the 
quiet of this unusual election in Camden; but 
when the polls were closed at six o'clock in the 
evening, the voters of Harrison county with the 
weapon of American manhood had struck for 
their homes and firesides! 

Olivia sat in the library of her home at Ridg- 
way, her friend, Mrs. Murray, bearing her com- 
pany while little Bob and Bess lingered, them- 
selves, too excited to sleep at the usual hour. 
Hugh Bryan and the men of the Carleton home 
were on the streets downtown inquiring for 
every detail of election returns. Olivia spoke 
lightly on trivial topics while she watched the 
clock and listened for the ring of the telephone. 

Nine-thirty! With a vexed impatience that 
the men of her home had forgotten her anxiety, 
she rang up the sheriff's office where she knew 
the alert and courteous deputy sat waiting to 
answer the telephone calls of the women of 
Camden and Harrison county. 

‘TIow goes the sheriff's election ?" asked 
Olivia with a fast-beating heart. 

‘T have the honor to inform you, madam, that 
Captain Shipley has been elected sheriff of Har- 


The Note of Discord 


149 


rison county by more than fifteen hundred 
votes/’ came a genial voice from the other end 
of the wire. 

'Ts that all?” she inquired in disappointed 
tones. 

A pause — then a surprised voice replied : 
*'Why — we think that’s pretty good.” 

“Yes, sir, that’s good,” she said; “but not half 
good enough.” 

“Thank you, madam, thank you,” replied the 
ever-courteous deputy. 

Olivia repeated this good news to her Ohio 
friend. The little woman cried, “Hooray!” in 
tones of joy, then went dancing about the room 
while Bob whistled the tune of Dixie. 

A few moments later Eugene Freeman called 
Mrs. Bryan up, with the message that he had 
just met her husband, eagerly interested in the 
fate of one of his fellow republicans, a candi- 
date for a county clerkship. The Judge had re- 
quested Freeman to telephone her the news of 
Captain Shipley’s reelection. “Bruce is wild 
with joy,” he added, “and will hardly go home 
before morning.” 

Again the telephone rang. This time it was 
her father rejoicing over the victory of his old 
comrade. Colonel Carleton sought Sheriff Ship- 
ley with warm words of gladness, then went 
home early in the evening to tell his wife the 
incidents of the election. This wise woman had 
ever left the men of her home to go to and fro 
at their will. One of her habits was- never to 
embarrass them by awaiting their return in the 
evening; but in the seclusion of her room she 


ISO The Note of Discord 

always listened for Bruce’s coming. Now, in 
the early hours of the morning, she heard the 
sound of her son’s night key in the door and 
his joyous step on the stair. 

Then she and the old Colonel clapped their 
hands in greeting as with a tone of triumph in 
his mellow voice, this young man of the loyal 
heart came down the hall singing: 

^'And shall Trelawny die? 

And shall Trelawny die? 

Then thirty thousand Cornish men 

Will know the reason why!” 


V 


The Note of Discord 


iSi 


CHAPTER XXI. 

‘'Olivia is failing in health again/' Mrs. Carle- 
ton remarked to the men of her home one day 
early in August. 'T've trained her to unselfish- 
ness, still she does too much for others — she 
seems now to have something on her mind/' said 
the anxious mother. 

“She has kept me guessing for a dozen years 
what scheme she'll be up to next," Hugh Bryan 
said in a worried tone. 

“She has been buzzing about all summer with 
a finger in every pie," was Colonel Carleton's 
comment as with a laugh he thought of his 
daughter's excited interest in the sheriflf's elec- 
tion. 

“Have you noticed that when Olivia puts her 
finger in the pie, she always pulls out a plum?" 
her admiring brother asked, with a remembrance 
of Ross Granville and the big patrolman. 

“She's worn out, owing to continued work and 
worry she has had in the kitchen this summer, 
on account of the mutiny of the negroes of our 
county before the election," Judge Bryan re- 
marked. “I want her to go with me next week 
to Uncle John's home on a fishing trip." 

Olivia was indeed wearied with the heat and 
unusual work of the past few months. The 
feeling of dissatisfaction among the negroes of 


152 


The Note of Discord 


Camden had caused cooks to come and go with 
the weeks in her hitherto well-ordered home. 
More than half the work had been done with 
her own hands. 

''Mrs. Bryan, you have the most surprising 
capacity of making a good show with less work 
than any one I ever saw,'’ Mrs. Murray had once 
said to Olivia. 

"Yes," the bright woman had replied, 'Tve 
always made a rule to let the head save the 
hands, the feet and the pocketbook, too. Then 
I put the best aspect on every phase of domestic 
life. Now, when the porch is covered with the 
children's footprints and those of the collie dogs, 
and friends come in, I never apologize for the 
dust and tracks, but, instead, I call attention to 
my honeysuckle and jessamine vines, then pick 
a bouquet for my visitors to take away with 
them. In their homes they say, 'What a lovely 
porch Mrs. Bryan has, with the vines and flow- 
ers growing around it, and she loves to share 
them with her friends;' and they haven't even 
seen the dusty floor which maybe hasn't been 
scrubbed for a week." 

But now Olivia grew listless and weary. Bet- 
ty's letters had informed the family of the travel- 
ing party's decision to come home within a short 
time; so Olivia, the optimist, confided to Bruce 
her plans for the western trip. "Hugh wants 
to spend his vacation on his uncle's farm, near 
Orton in the backwoods — you know the place, 
Bruce, where there's such good fishing. Mar- 
garet Lynn, Hugh's niece, is coming from South 
Carolina, on her way to Missouri, and will stop 


The Note of Discord 


153 


for a few days’ sightseeing in Camden. When 
her visit is over, 1 want to leave for Tom and 
Annie’s home in the west. Don’t say a word 
yet, Bruce, except to Eugene Freeman. Tell 
him at once. I’ve already asked old Mahaly to 
stay at mother’s and help take care of the chil- 
dren. She’s the only negro whom I know in 
Camden, unless it might be Caroline Taylor, in 
whose care I would leave Bess in my absence. 
Not that some other I might select would do my 
child any harm, but she wouldn’t protect the 
little darling from the familiarity or even in- 
sults of others of the black race.” 

‘‘There, sister, you’ve found the kernel which 
lies within the hard nut of the race problem. 
Not that all of their race would be guilty of 
vile crimes, even were the penalty of the law 
removed, but that with rare exceptions they pro- 
tect the criminal from exposure and punishment 
is why they deserve the white man’s censure,” 
the young man earnestly remarked. 

“Bruce, dear,” his sister replied, “you must 
remember that justice to all has ever been a 
leading trait of the Carleton character. I’ve 
always thought that the reason many negroes 
protect their criminals from exposure is because 
they fear the vengeance of the vicious of their 
own race. Hugh says, a few days ago at Nor- 
ton’s big wholesale house, one of the negro 
drivers had stolen something of great value 
from the manager. Another darkey, seeing the 
man with the stolen article, had at once told 
his employer. Then the thief got busy and 
with the aid of the rest of the negro employees 


154 The Note of Discord 

started in to wreak his vengeance on the honest 
negro. The white men of the establishment 
promptly defended the worthy darkey; but a 
squad of police, taking their riot guns, was com- 
pelled to go to the rescue before order was re- 
stored.’’ 

‘T heard about that,” Bruce returned. ‘T 
know that when a good negro exposes another’s 
guilt, he almost risks his own life. The best ones 
among them deplore this condition, but if they 
want the white man’s respect why don’t they 
try to change such a state of affairs?” 

"'At any rate,” was Olivia’s loyal comment, 
“old Mahaly is one who approves of nothing 
wrong of which her own may be guilty.” 

“Mahaly is the type through which father and 
mother see their faithful dark friends of the 
past. But old Mahaly is all white, except the 
little tinge of brown skin which in the south 
sends her to the kitchen with the other negroes,” 
said this observant young man. 

Twenty years before, on the afternoon when 
Colonel Carleton, arriving in Camden, had left 
his wife and children for a few moments in the 
waiting room of the Central station, the colored 
waitress there, seeing Olivia, then a pretty girl 
of fourteen, approached Mrs. Carleton, saying: 
“Lady, I wants to speak to your little girl a min- 
ute. She’s jes’ like my ole mistiss’s daughter. 
Mis’ Flora, the chile I nussed and raised down 
in Georgy. She died when she was fourteen 
years old, and when your little gal come in jes’ 
now, it seemed like Mis’ Flora had jes’ come back 
from Heaven.” 


The Note of Discord 155 

With the courtesy high-born southern women 
show to the respectful negro woman, Mrs. 
Carleton engaged in conversation with the wait- 
ress and learned that ''her white folks’" had, 
before the war, been wealthy planters in Georgia. 

At once a strong attachment had sprung up 
btween Mahaly, the waitress, and little Olivia 
Carleton which grew stronger as the years 
went by. 

In the bright days of her society life in Cam- 
den, Olivia would confess to Mahaly many a 
tender speech or relate some act of pleasant 
gallantry on the part of her sweethearts that 
she had been too shy to tell her mother. 

When Olivia married Hugh Bryan, Mahaly* 
was the most interested of the bride’s acquaint- 
ances in the wedding festivities; when little 
Bob and Bess were born, she left her work at 
the depot for a time, that she might herself 
"take keer of Mis’ ’Livia.” When Hugh Bryan 
was elected to office, old Mahaly was the proud- 
est soul in Camden that Mis’ ’Livia’s husband 
had become a "Jedge.” 

And Olivia had responded to this loyal love 
with all the warmth of a generous, appreciative 
nature. When one of Mahaly’s children needed 
legal help, it was Hugh Bryan who took efficient 
care of the matter for his wife’s lowly friend. 
That dreadful morning when a daughter 
of this worthy woman met a tragic death, 
Olivia and Judge Bryan went quickly to 
her home to meet there the wife of the baggage- 


*A true character sketch. 


156 The Note of Discord 

master, one of the ticket agents, and the 
station-master himself, one of the most prom- 
inent men in Camden — all gathered to pay their 
tribute of aid and respect to their humble friend 
in distress. Sometimes her own children would 
return her love with unkindness; then Mahaly, 
secure in the knowledge of Olivia's friendship, 
would proudly reprove them with the words: 
“My white chile is the best chile IVe got." 

And, too, when the notorious case of Ned 
Jackson was disturbing the negroes of Camden, 
this loyal woman of another day asked Olivia: 
“Tell me how it was, honey. I know you'll tell 
it right." As Mrs. Bryan explained the details 
of the case in simple language, old Mahaly, 
patting the soft hand of her higb-born friend, 
said: “De white folks know bes', honey. De 
white folks know bes'." 

Colonel Carleton, commenting on this strong 
attachment, once remarked: “You're fortunate, 
daughter, in being one of the few women of the 
present day who can personally realize the loyal 
love that existed between mistress and slave in 
the past." 

“Yes," cried Bruce Carleton, “if there were 
any more of her race in Camden like old Ma- 
haly, I'd be a negro-lover myself" — the most 
forceful tribute he could have paid to the old 
woman's virtues. 

“Be careful, Bruce, what you say about 
my plans," Olivia, the tactful, again urged. “You 
and Freeman cannot go to visit the Gordon ranch 
unless I do, and I can't go so far without Hugh, 
especially as it's just time for his vacation. 


The Note of Discord 157 

Hugh’ll have a grand time out there ; but if I tell 
him so, hedl mope and think I ought to go with 
him to that horrid farm of his uncle. I’m going 
this afternoon to see Dr. Burton,” she added, 
with a knowing look at her brother. 

Bruce thought of Betty, her future welfare, 
and the dearest wish of his life, that she might 
become the wife of his friend, Eugene Freeman. 
Then he looked with laughing eyes at his 
scheming sister, and giving her hand a glad 
squeeze, remarked in admiration: ‘'Olivia, you 
always had the brains of the Carleton family.” 

The next day Doctor Burton advised Hugh 
Bryan that his wife must have a radical change 
to restore her wearied strength. 

“Don’t send her, Judge, to the mountains or 
seashore. Let her go to some place where she 
has never been before, say a trip to the western 
plains,” added the good doctor, one of Mrs. Bry- 
an’s most highly prized friends in Camden. 

The anxious husband reported the doctor’s 
words to his listless wife. “Dr. Burton said the 
western plains — the very thing!” he added, with 
another thought. “I’ve just received a letter 
from Tom Cordon; he invites us to visit him, 
right away, and he wants Bruce and some young 
man to come with us, to help make up the proper 
number of men in the next house party. Why! 
Eugene Freeman is the very man. You must 
go with them, Olivia, and I’ll stay at home and 
look after Bob and Bess. Your mother is not 
strong enough to have the care of those two 
youngsters by herself,” the uneasy husband 
urged with the memory of his wife’s suffering 


158 The Note of Discord 

in that dreadful year of the past ready for any 
sacrifice to restore her strength. 

Then Olivia told him she would not go a step 
without him, saying that old Mahaly would help 
her mother take care of the children. And this 
clever woman was soon busy preparing for the 
trip to the western plains. 

‘‘How is it, Olivia,’’ asked Bruce Carleton of 
his sister, “that without any antagonism, you’ve 
always done as you please?” 

“May I answer you, Bruce,” she returned a 
little proudly, “as father once answered the same 
question? One of my school teachers in Vir- 
ginia said to him, ‘Your daughter Olivia, while 
seemingly obedient and dutiful, always manages 
to do as she pleases.’ Father, giving her one of 
his courtly bows, replied, ‘My daughter does as 
she pleases. Madam, because she pleases to do 
right.’ I want to take a trip that will be of 
interest to us all and at the same time restore my 
strength; for you know, brother, that I’m not 
well. This visit will give you and Hugh a 
much-needed rest; it will take Freeman to the 
girl he loves — and will end, as you’ll see, in his 
and Betty’s marriage — and if you don’t call that 
right, Bruce Carleton, what do you call right?” 
she asked with a woman’s unanswerable logic. 
“And then, when our visit has ended with hap- 
piness to all, Hugh Bryan, with one of his su- 
perior smiles, will tell you that he planned the 
trip to the western plains,” Olivia finished with a 
merry smile as Bruce left the room in a fit of 
laughter. 

Soon after the sheriff’s election, Betty had 


The Note of Discord 159 

written her mother: ‘T first received the news 
of Captain Shipley’s victory in a letter from 
Eugene Freeman. He evidently wrote it an 
hour or so after the election returns were in, for 
he said, ‘As I came to my room to write you, 
I met Judge Bryan on Main street, consumed 
with anxiety over the fate of a fellow repub- 
lican. He requested me to telephone his wife 
the news of Sheriff Shipley’s reelection to-night 
by a majority of more than fifteen hundred votes. 
I was much gratified at having the pleasure of in- 
forming Mrs. Bryan of this good tidings.’ A nice 
way of saying, mother, that he voted for Captain 
Shipley. And wasn’t it lovely of him to do it, 
with all the prejudices of the past behind him? 
He now sees that what he once thought wrong is 
right. Ah! trust the man of New England to 
follow where his conscience leads! 

“Then, though he knew that I care for Harry 
Shipley almost as I care for Bruce himself, yet 
he also knows that Harry is father’s favorite of 
my men friends — and on account of that I think 
it was doubly nice of Eugene to vote for Sheriff 
Shipley. The news of the Captain’s reelection 
came in a special delivery letter — one of the 
many I have received from Eugene since I left 
home. I have always doted on special delivery 
letters. I dote now on the thoughtful man who 
writes them.” 

Olivia awaited only the coming of her ex- 
pected guest, Margaret Lynn, from South Caro- 
lina, before leaving for the desired journey. But 
the young girl was detained for several days, and 
one night after ten o’clock Mrs. Bryan received 


i6o The Note of Discord 

a telegram informing her that Margaret would 
arrive at eleven o’clock that night. Judge Bryan 
and Colonel Carleton had gone to Bainsville, 
their train being clue several hours later than the 
one by which the guest would arrive. Bruce 
was again visiting the home of Captain Douglass 
at the Army Post, and their telephone was out 
of order. 

‘T’m in despair, Mrs. Murray,” said Olivia, in 
a distressed tone to her sympathetic neightor. 
‘‘Margaret must not ride from the Central Sta- 
tion three miles to Ridgway, alone with a negro 
cabman, near midnight. Old Frank whom we 
always patronize, broke his arm in a runaway 
last week, and I don’t know any of the other 
cabmen. Not that some of them wouldn’t pro- 
tect Margaret, if she needed help; but we never 
know which one that might be — especially,” she 
added, “since this new race antagonism in Cam- 
den.” 

“I wouldn’t like to take such a drive alone 
myself, and it would be unpleasant for any 
young girl,” Mrs. Murray remarked. 

“I know what I’ll do,” Olivia observed, the 
anxious look leaving her face. “If I can locate 
Harry Shipley over the ’phone, he’ll meet Mar- 
garet and ride here with her.” Then ringing 
his number, she found him eager to do the favor 
she asked, pleased that she should have requested 
his aid in this moment of perplexity. 

“I do think,” Mrs. Murray observed, “that 
the ease with which you southern women ask a 
kindness of the men friends of your family is 
one of the loveliest phases of life in the south. 


The Note of Discord i6i 

And the best part/’ she continued, “is the pleas- 
ure with which they grant your requests.” 

'‘We’ve always been accustomed to such 
courtesy,” Olivia replied. "But do you think 
this kindness belongs only to the men of our 
section ?” 

"It prevails here,” her friend returned, "to a 
greater extent than anywhere else I know of.” 

"Let me tell you of an experience I had sev- 
eral years ago in New England,” Mrs. Bryan 
said to the little neighbor, ever interested in her 
stories. "You remember. Eve told you that 
Hugh has a cousin living in Philadelphia who 
owned a little summer cottage at Walton, on the 
Massachusetts coast. I’d gone with my hus- 
band to New York where he’d been called on 
business about some kind of bonds — I don’t ex- 
actly understand such things — and after his busi- 
ness was finished, the Judge left me to visit 
our friends on Riverside Drive for a week. 

"While there I received an urgent letter from 
Mrs. Barrett, Hugh’s favorite cousin, to visit 
them before I returned south. She had lost 
most of her property the year previous, had 
given up her home in Philadelphia and was 
spending the winter at the little cottage in the 
seacoast village. I knew it would please my 
husband to shorten my stay with my wealthy 
New York friends to visit the family of his now 
unfortunate relative. I did not inform our 
cousin of the hour of my arrival, supposing of 
course that the railway station was in the village 
and that I could telephone her and drive to her 
home. You know respectable men drive hacks 


i 62 The Note of Discord 

in New England towns/' she added, with a 
thought of her present need of Harry Shipley. 

'T traveled through a snow-storm which be- 
gan after I left New York, and reached Walton 
about eleven o'clock at night. As I walked in 
the darkness to the depot platform, I saw a man 
drive a wagon — what we’d call a transfer wagon, 
but which in that section is called the express — 
up to the station. I asked a solitary bystander 
if he knew whether or not I could get a cab at 
the depot, later. He replied in the negative. 
Then I walked into the waiting-room and found 
myself alone — it seemed that the station agent 
had left his office for a moment after the de- 
parture of the last train. 

'‘As I stood, hesitating what to do, the rear 
door of the waiting-room opened and a man, 
plainly but neatly dressed with a kind look on 
his rugged face crossed the room towards me. 
He didn't even lift his hat as he said: T heard 
you speak to the man outside.* You are a 
stranger from the south,' he added with a look 
of interest. 

"'Yes, sir,' I replied, 'but how did you know 
that I am from the south?' 

" 'By your voice,' he answered. 

"Then I told him that I wished to go to the 
home of my cousin, Mrs. Barrett, which Td sup- 
posed was near the station. Td heard Hugh 
say his relative was reserved and knew few of 
the village folk. 

" 'No,' he replied, 'Walton station is two miles 
from Walton village. There is no hack line in 


*An incident in the life of the writer. 


The Note of Discord 163 

operation at this time of year. We have a tele- 
graph and telephone service, but there has been 
a heavy storm this afternoon and the wires are 
down. I am the expressman here,’ he added, 
‘and must meet the next trains. If it were not 
for that I would take you over myself.’ 

“ ‘What shall I do ?’ I asked him, in helpless 
bewilderment. 

“ ‘Wait one minute,’ he answered, as he left 
the room. Returning immediately, he said : 
‘Come. One of my friends is passing in a sleigh ; 
he is going not far from Mrs. Barrett’s home, 
and will take you over.’ 

“As we approached the man on the only seat 
of the sleigh, the expressman said: ‘Mr. Law- 
rence, here’s a stranger from the south.’ 

“Then, with a few words he helped me to the 
seat by his friend’s side, and, tucking the buffalo 
robe about me, said : ‘See her safely, Lawrence, 
to her cousin’s home.’ 

“And I, Olivia Bryan, twelve hundred miles 
from home, was speeding along a lonely snow- 
bound road, under a midnight sky, by the side of 
a man of whom, five minutes before, I had never 
even heard. Yet, as I looked into his shrewd 
though honest, face and met his keen but kindly 
eye, I felt the same sense of protection as if I’d 
been sitting by the side of Bruce Carleton him- 
self. 

“We soon reached our destination, a cottage 
set far back from the road, among shadowy 
trees, on the side of the frozen bay. 

“Leaving the sleigh at the little gate, my newly 
found friend walked ahead, my suit-case in his 


164 The Note of Discord 

hand, taking short strides that I might follow in 
his footsteps through the deeply drifted snow, 
speaking now and then a reassuring word as we 
slowly made our way to my cousin's door. 

‘When I shook his hand and thanked him 
warmly for his goodness, he didn't even lift his 
hat as he replied: T was glad to help you, a 
stranger from the south.' 

“Ah! if these men had missed the chivalry 
of manner, they had found the chivalry of heart, 
indeed ! 

“And one of my dearest memories," Olivia 
added softly, “is of that December night, on their 
dreary, ice-tound shore, when those two rugged 
men of New England took care of ‘a stranger 
from the south !' " 


The Note of Discord 


i6s 


CHAPTER XXII. 

At length the preparations were completed for 
the trip to the western plains, and Mrs. Bryan 
fatigued with the work of the last few hours 
was worn and nervous. 

''Olivia looks so pale this morning; it hurts 
me to have her leave us in this condition/’ said 
the anxious mother, with a sigh. 

"Never you mind about Olivia,” her brother 
replied. "She’s pale and tired now, but just 
wait until she gets what she’s been going after 
and you’ll see how well she’ll look. I guess it’s 
a symptom of her nervous trouble,” he added 
with a knowing wink. 

So, with her children safe in Mahaly’s care, 
under their grandmother’s direction, and her 
husband, brother and his friend ready for a trip 
to the far west, it was a gay and radiant woman 
that the train carried out of the Central station 
that happy August morning. 

Two weeks later, Mrs. Carleton sat in a cor- 
ner of her vine-shaded veranda, reading a letter 
from Olivia, just received in the afternoon mail: 

"My darling Mother (she began) : 

"Bruce has just brought me your last letter 
in which I note with delight that everything is 
serene and pleasant with you. Another week 


i66 


The Note of Discord 


will bring our visit to a close. Hugh must be 
home before his court meets, and Mr. Freeman 
will leave us at St. Louis, going on to Boston 
where he will remain several weeks on business. 
I have already written you a description of the 
ranch and mode of life here, and of Tom's and 
Annie’s goodness to us. Dr. Burton said a rad- 
ical change was what I needed, and, as usual, 
his prescription just suits the case. 

“I wish you could know these big-hearted 
western people; their minds as broad as their 
boundless prairies; their love of humanity as 
strong as the winds that blow over their fertile 
plains. I am filled with enthusiasm at this grand 
country, much to Tom’s joy who thought I nad 
received the acme of praise when a big ranch 
owner said to him: 'Why, Gordon, Mrs. Bryan 
is just like a western woman.’ Hugh says he’s 
glad that I never visited in the west before I 
married him. 

"Think of it, mother! The nearest town 
where Betty left the train to join us, is twenty 
miles away; but Tom’s ranch is half that big 
itself. And it only seems a little jaunt over to 
Brixton in this land of great distances. Some 
of the house party went wdth Annie a few days 
ago to the little cattle fair in Brixton. The 
other women said it was a bore; but I never 
enjoyed a day more thoroughly in my life, meet- 
ing and making a good impression on Tom’s 
and Annie’s friends. 

"You know, mother, I always liked strangers 
— or, rather to me, there are no strangers. In 


The Note of Discord 167 

a sense, we are all children of one Father on 
our way to a common Home. 

‘'And how small the world is, after all. Think 
who surprised us the other day by joining our 
happy party, on his way home from the Pacific 
coast — Archer Vaughn, my old Texas sweet- 
heart — the one you liked, mother, the best of all 
my beaux. He's the same jolly, good fellow and 
fine gentleman that he was in the merry days of 
the past. His wife is with him, a pretty woman, 
though haughty and reserved towards me. 
What do you suppose that husband of mine told 
me last night? With not more than a half- 
pleased air he said, ‘As you passed us on the 
veranda to-day Vaughn remarked, “She's more 
charming, Judge, than she was fifteen years 
ago." Then Hugh added with a proud smile, 
‘I know what he thought of Olivia Carleton fif- 
teen years ago.' 

“Arch Vaughn's wife is one of Annie’s dis- 
tant cousins; she is an attractive little w^oman, 
but grows stiff and sullen if her husband seems 
interested in anything I do or say — the little 
fool — I would just love to shake her soundly; 
but, even in the gayest days of my girlhood, I 
never could bear to cause any woman the tiniest 
mite of heartache about some man she loved, so 
I never say anything to Arch, except when Hugh 
is around. As you know, mother, I was always 
a very careful girl ; I am so glad now, because 
with this old sweetheart in our party, I can stand 
by my husband's side and look into the eyes of 
Archer Vaughn, innocent as an angel, and know 
that in a courtship of two years he never even 


i68 


The Note of Discord 


held my hand at parting; though I cannot deny 
that what he sometimes said to me might be 
interesting reading. Hugh says he is proud his 
wife can say what few other women can — and 
he knows it is the truth, too, because in his own 
courtship he had the same experience ; and I was 
no prude, either, but a merry, warm-hearted girl. 

‘^Another friend about whom you will like to 
hear, is Tom’s oldest sister, Mrs. Preston who 
is almost an invalid and lives with the Gordons 
now. I have been telling her about Dr. Bur- 
ton’s marvelous genius and skill; of what he did 
for me when the best doctors in the north and 
east had failed. She has decided on coming to 
Camden to see our wonderful doctor in the early 
part of the winter. Bruce overheard us talking 
about this plan and remarked, with a laugh: 
'There you go again, Olivia, corraling every sick 
woman in sight for Dr. Burton to cure.’ 

'T have written you about our rides and drives 
over the prairies. Think of a country without a 
tree in sight, except those which have been 
planted for shading the ranch houses and the 
willows growing on the banks of the two arti- 
ficial lakes — tanks, they call them here. These 
tanks are built by the ranch owners to reserve 
a supply of water for the cattle in time of 
drouth. The Judge is having the time of his 
life as he sits on the shady side of the wind- 
swept verandas and tells his sly jokes to a circle 
of admiring men. You know, Hugh has a 
mania for fishing; that is the reason he wanted 
to take his vacation at his uncle’s farm on the 
Tennessee river. One of the tanks — I want to 


The Note of Discord 169 

call it a lake — is stocked with the finest fish I 
ever saw; and here it is, under the willows, that 
Hugh spends his mornings. 

'‘Coming in the other day with a bigger catch 
than any of the party, he exclaimed in high glee: 
'Olivia, wasn’t it fortunate that Dr. Burton sug- 
gested a trip to the western plains for our vaca- 
tion; and it was more lucky still,’ he added, T 
thought of this place to visit; that is, after get- 
ting Tom Gordon’s letter.’ I wish you could 
have seen Bruce Carleton’s face as he suddenly 
left the room. 

"He, too, is having a great time, happy all day 
long; but when is it that Bruce Carleton is not 
happy, except when he thinks about Ned Jack- 
son and the negroes of Camden? Tom Gordon 
told Hugh the cowboys are wild over Bruce, 
and Annie invited a lovely western girl here to 
meet him. While he pays her every courtesy, 
whenever the mail train from the east is due, 
he leaves everything to gallop over to Brixton 
on Tom’s fastest horse. Coming back yesterday 
from one of these trips, he gave me some of his 
own letters to read. I caught sight of another 
letter addressed in a feminine hand. I don’t 
know Dorothy’s* handwriting, but I saw the Fort 
Dodge postmark. My brother’s eyes grew 
brighter, as he said : T can’t let you see this one, 
Olivia,’ and then walked away with a well- 
pleased air. It must be the law of affinity that 
makes Bruce love a captain’s daughter for he 
is a born soldier himself. 

"But the generous soul of these western 
people has made our New England friend the 


I/O 


The Note of Discord 


honored guest of the party. While he is the 
essence of courtesy and culture, he has eyes and 
ears only for Betty. 

''Of course, my beautiful sister is the toast 
of the company. The women all like her be- 
cause she is pleasantly indifferent to any atten- 
tions which their husbands might show her. You 
know that Betty Carleton would die at the mar- 
tyr’s stake, as Bruce says, before she would give 
more than a friendly glance to any married man, 
and the men, responding to her innocence and 
purity, treat her as they would a little sister at 
home. 

"Why, sometimes I see Freeman grow al- 
most shy in his adoring love as the beauty of 
her character develops day by day. Our trip 
to the west is sure to end in Betty’s marriage 
to Eugene Freeman; and where could she find 
another husband like him? So trustworthy, so 
just, so refined, and imbued with such high ideals 
of life. Hugh says he is glad I never met any 
young men of New England before I married 
him. 

"I wish the story of our innocent pleasures 
was all; but, ah! mother, even in this pure air 
of the western prairies, I see the trail of the 
serpent of Eden. Mrs. Carson is the wife of one 
of Tom Gordon’s best friends, a very busy man 
in a western city who once helped Tom to stem 
the tide of a financial panic. Mr. Carson, at 
the last moment, was unable to join the house 
party, but is coming to accompany his wife 
home. 

"This woman is beautiful, rather with the at- 


The Note of Discord 


171 

traction of rich coloring and animation than of 
perfect features. She is fascinating, too, with 
that magnetic charm more dangerous to the 
peace of men than the coarse lack of virtue itself. 
She seems to feast on the homage of the men of 
our party. She even comes flirting round Hugh 
— think of it! — flirting around Hugh Bryan, the 
most loyal man to his wife in Camden ! He has 
a whole lot of fun at my expense — but, while 
I have every confidence in my husband, 1 do not 
like Mrs. Carson’s maneuvers one bit. 

‘‘At first she made straight for my brother. 
Ah! one of the devil’s best weapons is the in- 
sincere flattery with which designing women 
pamper the vanity of their intended victim. But 
she had spotted the wrong game that time ; for 
Bruce Carleton is a whole six feet of manhood, 
from the top of his highly poised head to the 
tip of his stylish boots. Thanks, too, to his 
father’s blood and his mother’s training, he 
hardly notices Mrs. Carson, except now and then 
to give her a sidelong glance of scorn. I do not 
doubt Bruce might, unknown to us, be guilty of 
some little gayeties like other young men of the 
day — but I would stake my life on Bruce Carle- 
ton — that, if some man’s wife were in the ques- 
tion, he’d be another ‘Joseph.’ 

“I believe Eugene Freeman would be all right, 
even under other circumstances — but now, when 
this fast woman tries to attract his attention, he 
only looks over her head towards Betty. But 
all the men here are not like Hugh, Bruce and 
his friend, and there are some sad hearts in this 
ranch house to-day. 


172 


The Note of Discord 


'"All the revenge we women can take is to 
hold little indignation meetings, in groups of 
two and three, as we pass about the place. Then, 
like the smiling hypocrites that our pride and 
society make us, in her presence we act as if we 
had seen nothing wrong whatever. Annie says 
she shall never come here again ; but the memory 
of Tom’s obligation to the husband, as well as 
her duties as hostess, now compel her to show 
her undesirable guest, respect. Annie says Car- 
son adores his wife. What kind of a woman 
must she be, mother, who, aside from her own 
sense of purity, accepts her husband’s love and 
protection and spends his money for her own 
comfort while she trails his name in the mire, in 
the eyes of other men? 

‘‘Although living in the west the past two 
years, Mrs. Carson is a southern woman, and 
should be doubly ashamed of herself. I think 
that when the men of our section are so eager 
in one sense to protect our virtue, we should in 
another sense be very careful of our conduct. 

“It is almost time now, mother, to dress for 
dinner. We have some lovely though appro- 
priate gowns on this far-off ranch. 

“Mother, you used to say Eugene Freeman 
was a little too distant in his manner. He may 
have been a little icy at first, but he has thawed 
out now, under this western warmth and influ- 
ence of Betty’s love. I would like to know 
where the cold reserve of New England is, in 
the proud and happy lover whom I see coming 
gaily up the path beside my charming sister. 

“We get the Camden papers every other day, 


The Note of Discord 173 

and in my delightful vacation I have only one 
care — an anxious thought for the possible wel- 
fare of those good friends of the women of 
Camden, the nervy men who sent Ned Jackson 
to his well-deserved death that dreadful night 
last March. If, by any chance, they should be 
punished they will be martyrs — martyrs in a 
grand cause — the protection of the virtuous 
womanhood of Harrison county. 

“Tell father, when he sees Captain Shipley, to 
give him our best wishes and hopes,, that his un- 
pleasant trouble with the Supreme Court will 
soon terminate in his favor. If, however, he and 
the so-called mob should suffer, I think the 
women of our whole country should pray for 
executive clemency from the head of our Gov- 
ernment. And with woman’s intuition I pin my 
faith to the man of the earnest soul and pure 
heart who sits in the President’s chair in Wash- 
ington. 

“Mother, be sure to keep an eye on Bob about 
playing ball on Sunday. I want him to know 
that God’s day is different from the other days 
in the week. That boy can slip through your 
fingers like an eel when he is after a game of 
baseball; but he is a dear little fellow, and I 
hope will grow up into a combination of his 
father and mine. Bess wrote me a sweet letter 
last week in which she proudly said that she had 
more stars on her Sunday school card than any 
other girl in her class. 

“Be sure to tell Mahaly I knew she would take 
as good care of my children as I would myself, 


174 The Note of Discord 

and say to old Ellen that I have not eaten any 
biscuit like hers on the western plains. 

''Arch Vaughn, Annie and Mrs. Preston send 
cordial greetings and the home folks here join 
me in dearest love to you and father. With 
a kiss for you both and my darling babies, I am, 
as ever, 

"Your devoted daughter, 

"Olivia Bryan. 

"P. S. — If Christopher & Co. should have one 
of those splendid sales before I come home, 
be sure to buy a big lot of laces and embroideries. 
We will need it for Betty's trousseau this 
winter." 


The Note of Discord 


175 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Olivia and her merry party had returned some 
weeks since from their visit to the western 
plains. Eugene Freeman still remained in the 
east, detained by business. Judge Bryan was 
away from home, attending to the duties of his 
judicial circuit, and Olivia with her children 
was visiting the Carleton home during her hus- 
band's absence. 

All Camden awaited with intense and anxious 
interest the result of the proceedings of the Su- 
preme Court at Washington where Sheriff Ship- 
ley, his deputies, and fifteen members of the so- 
called mob had been summoned to answer the 
charge of contempt. 

''Listen, Olivia, and you, too, mother," Betty 
Carleton said entering the library on this Octo- 
ber afternoon, "the Sentinel has come earlier 
than usual, and here's an account from Washing- 
ton of the pleasant reception given by the Presi- 
dent to Captain Shipley and his party," then 
read the following special from the national cap- 
ital, a smile of gladness playing over her lovely 
face : 

"Washington, D. C., Oct. 15, 1906. 

"The entire Camden party that is in Wash- 

*Words copied from a Chattanooga newspaper dated 
Oct. 16, 1906. 


176 The Note of Discord 

ington at this time from force of circumstances, 
called on the President this afternoon. It was 
at the suggestion of a newspaper representative 
that Captain Shipley, Judge Russell, and the 
others thought of the propriety of paying their 
respects to our Chief Executive. Arriving at 
the White House, the reporter sent in his card, 
stating that he desired to introduce Captain J. F. 
Shipley, sheriff of Harrison county, Tennessee. 

‘'An audience was granted at once, and dozens 
of waiters watched the Camden party pass them 
in the lobby. 

“The President was courteously disposing of a 
caller who had just been interviewing him on 
some cherished scheme. The party circled 
around our Chief Executive and stood with un- 
conscious looks of admiration while he kindly 
dismissed his persistent visitor. He was dressed 
in a gray Prince Albert suit, modest and unas- 
suming, as is his wont. The ever-present eye- 
glasses and smile (if it is not sometimes more) 
met the Tennesseans as he turned. 

“The reporter thought to be spokesman, but 
Captain Shipley needed no introduction The 
President at once recognized him, called him by 
name, and showed in every look that he was 'de- 
lighted,' although he disappointed all his callers 
by failing to pronounce that word 

“ 'Captain Shipley, I am sure I am truly glad 
to shake your hand,' began the President. 'I in- 
tended to make an hour for you to-morrow, but 
it is a pleasure to meet you again, even for a 
moment. I remember very well, when I visited 
Camden I was given the time of my life. If I 


The Note of Discord 177 

could see that you and your friends were enter- 
tained half so well as I was in your famous city, 
I would be more than happy. By the way, you 
had a cousin who was killed in the battle at San 
Juan. His name was Ezra Shipley, an officer 
in the Tenth Cavalry, and a more gallant com- 
mander never led a troop into a charge. He was 
from Charlotte, N. C. A few years ago it was 
my happiness to remember the widow of that 
gallant officer. She was living with her people 
at Fayetteville, N. C., and that town wanted a 
new postmaster. Some of my political friends 
were contending for the appointment. One day 
I was informed that Lieutenant Shipley's widow 
lived there. I said, 'Why not appoint her as a 
compromise?' It was a happy thought, and I 
want to assure you, her kinsman, that I have not 
been sorry for that little act." 

‘‘The President had something to say to each 
member of the party of callers. He remarked 
that East Tennessee furnished men of manly 
height as well as of strong personality and in- 
tellect. His reception given under extraordi- 
nary circumstances in violation of his custom, 
and intrenching upon his busy hours, was a 
revelation to those in the party who had never 
seen the President before." 

"Didn't I write you, mother, that I pinned my 
faith to the man of the earnest soul and pure 
heart who sits in the President’s chair in Wash- 
ington?" Olivia cried, in gleeful triumph. 

"If he only knew the truth as we know it," 
the gentle Betty said, "he would feel as Bruce, 


178 The Note of Discord 

Hugh, and father feel — yes, Olivia, as Eugene 
thinks, too,’' she added, as she caught a glimpse 
of the arch smile on her sister’s face. 

''Betty, have you and mother been reading 
the series of articles that have been running in 
the Home Journal for some time, in which the 
claim is made that the President is interested 
in all public vital questions concerning the home ? 
This question of the fate of Captain Shipley 
and the nervy men is one public, vital question 
that concerns many thousand homes If the 
President should interest himself in the welfare 
of these men, then indeed will his name be 
blessed in every home of our section — then will 
he go down into history, the idol of the south- 
ern women.” 

“Ah!” exclaimed Mrs. Carleton, “if his south- 
ern mother, long since a saint with God, were on 
earth to-day, she would plead with her noble 
son for the welfare of these men — the welfare 
for which the women of her country fervently 
hope and pray. And for this aid,” she added 
softly, in a reverent voice, “the God we worship 
will give him a crown in heaven.” 

Betty, her eyes filling with tears, heard the 
words of love and religion ever on the lips of this 
gentle mother. Then glancing through the win- 
dow, she ran to meet the messenger boy whom 
she saw coming to the door, with a broad grin 
on his dust-smeared face, to deliver “one of them 
special delivery letters that Miss Betty likes so 
well to get.” This was the little messenger 
whom the office girl had once told Olivia always 
made a dash for his wheel when a call came for 


The Note of Discord 179 

444 Thornton avenue. More than a year ago 
this same little fellow had been thrown from his 
bicycle by a careless driver in front of Colonel 
Carleton’s home. It was Betty, viewing the acci- 
dent from the veranda who had been first to 
reach his side. It was Betty who led him, bruised 
and half stunned, into the house, bathed his face 
at the pantry sink, and then giving him a de- 
licious iced drink, telephoned the office the cause 
of his delay — a trifle in the life of Betty Carle- 
ton reared in an atmosphere of love and tender- 
ness; but ‘'the beautiful young lady’' who had 
been so kind to him had ever since been dear to 
the heart of this little soldier of the street. 

In the letter just received, Eugene Freeman 
with tender words informed Betty of his in- 
tended arrival in Camden that afternoon, and 
expressed a desire to come to her father’s home 
later in the day. 

The last rays of the mellow October sunshine 
fell across the broad veranda as Betty Carleton 
stood by her father’s side, awaiting the approach 
of her manly lover who had just arrived from 
the east. From the froth and frivolity of the 
past a new Betty had arisen — a woman with 
clearer vision who saw the worth of character 
and principle instead of magnetic charm. A 
touch of tender thoughtfulness on the delicate 
face only enhanced its beauty, and the sweetness 
of her nature shed a gentle charm as the per- 
fume floats from the rose which grew on the 
climbing vine beside her. 

Colonel Carleton stood with thoughtful air 
and proudly noted Freeman’s noble presence as 


i8o The Note of Discord 

he came with quick step and radiant face up the 
terraced slope which led to the Carleton home. 

The old Colonel glanced half shyly at his 
daughter's face. The warm flush of welcome 
was on her cheek ; the starry eyes were illumined 
by the glow of love; and he looked down the 
coming years and saw the happiness which 
awaited her — Betty, the beautiful — Betty, his 
best beloved. 


THE END. 


Sam S. & Lee Shubert 

direct the following theatres and theatrical 
attractions in America : 


Hippodrome, Lyric, Casino, 
Dalys, Lew Fields, Herald 
Square and Princess Thea- 
tres, New York. 

Garrick Theatre, Chicago. 

Lyric Theatre, Philadelphia. 

Shubert Theatre, Brooklyn. 

Belasco Theatre, Washing- 
ton. 

Belasco Theatre, Pittsburg. 

Shubert Theatre, Newark. 

Shubert Theatre, Utica. 

Grand Opera House, Syra- 
cuse. 

Baker Theatre, Rochester. 

Opera House, Providence. 

Worcester Theatre, Worces- 
ter. 

Hyperion Theatre, New 
Haven. 

Lyceum Theatre, Buffalo. 

Colonial Theatre, Cleveland. 

Rand’s Opera House, Troy. 

Garrick Theatre, St. Louis. 

Sam S. Shubert Theatre, 
Norfolk, Va. 

Shubert Theatre, Columbus. 

Lyric, Cincinnati. 


Mary Anderson Theatre, 
Louisville. 

New Theatre, Richmond, 
Va. 

New Theatre, Lexington, Ky. 

New Theatre, Mobile. 

New Theatre, Atlanta. 

Shubert Theatre, Milwau- 
kee. 

Lyric Theatre, New Orleans. 

New Marlowe Theatre, 
Chattanooga. 

New Theatre, Detroit. 

Grand Opera House, Dav- 
enport, Iowa. 

New Theatre, Toronto. ' 

New Sothern Theatre, Den- 
ver. 

Sam S. Shubert Theatre, I 
Kansas City. 

Majestic Theatre, Los An- 
geles. 

Belasco Theatre, Portland. 

Shubert Theatre, Seattle. 

Majestic Theatre, San Fran- 
cisco. 

F. H. Sothern & Julia Mar- 
lowe in repertoire. 


Margaret Anglin and Henry 
Miller. 

Virginia Harned. 

Mary Mannering in “ Glori- 
ous Betsy.’* 

Mme. Alla Nazimova. 

Thos. W. Ross in ‘‘The 
Other Girl.” 

Cecelia lyoftus. 

Clara Bloodgood. 

Blanche Ring. 

Alexander Carr. 

Digby Bell. 

‘‘ The Girl Behind the 
Counter.” 

“The Light Eternal.’ 

“The Snow Man.” 

Blanche Bates in “ The Girl 
from the Golden West.” 

Dayid Warfield in “The 
Music Master.” 

“ The Rose of the Rancho,” 
with Rose Starr. 

Harrison Gray Fiske’s 
Attractions. 

Mrs. Fiske in “The New 
York Idea.” 


‘Shore Acres.” 

Louis Mann in “ The White 
Hen.” 

“The Road to Yesterday.” 

Henry Woodruff in “ Brown 
of Harvard.” 

“The Secret Orchard,” by 
Channing Pollock. 

De Wolf Hopper in “Hap- 
py land.” 

Fddie Foy in “ The Orchid.” 

Marguerite Clark, in a new 
opera. 

“The Social Whirl,” with 
Chas. J. Ross. 

James T. Powers in “The 
Blue Moon.” 

Bertha Kalich. 

“Leah Kleschna.” 

“The Man on the Box.” 

Cyril Scott in “ The Prince 
Chap.” 

“ Mrs. Temple’s Telegram.” 

“The Three of Us.” 


You cannot go wrong in selecting one of 
these play-houses for an evening’s entertain- 
ment in whatever city you may happen to be. 


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